The Disappearer
by Porkchop Sandwiches
Summary: "I mean off the grid. New identities, new everything. No one would ever be able to trace you." Alex isn't exactly what Saul was referring to. But, she's screwed up so many spells, caused enough legitimate damage, that blipping in her favorite meth-head is basically the best mistake she's ever made. Breaking Bad seasons 3 and 4/ WOWP seasons 2 and 3. Alex/Jesse.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, yeah, this is a_ Wizards of Waverly Place_/_Breaking Bad _crossover. I know I technically should label it as a "crossover" but I feel like stuff gets lost there, and I know I rarely look for stories there, so I'm cheating. And yes, you wouldn't think these would go together at all, but this idea wouldn't leave me alone. I want to point out some minor changes I made. Jesse is smoking weed and drinking even though this is set in season three, and Alex hasn't met Mason yet. Also, this is going to be a pretty long multi-chapter story. Read on :)**

* * *

"Such a good show, such a good show, such a good show!" Justin is literally bouncing up and down on the loft's orange couch.

He grabs his mug of hot tea from the coffee table, which Alex thinks is pretty stupid considering it's June, and balmy outside, and he's not elderly.

He's excitedly pointing to the periodic table design on the side of his cup. "Yeah, science!"

Alex has a mouthful of potato chips, slouched as far away from him as possible. It's past ten on a Sunday night, so their parents are asleep, and Max is doing who knows what somewhere that isn't the living room. "Gosh, Justin, is it like your job to make cool things as nerdy as possible?"

Justin sips his tea with a smug smile. "Excuse me, but if it wasn't for my 'nerdy' tastes, you would have never even heard of _Breaking Bad_. Ever think of it that way?_ Huh_?"

His voice is hitting that high pitch that she's pretty sure only trolls can hear or like when she walks in on him playing with his Jim Bob Sherwood Space Cadet dolls, and she winces. "Puh-lease, if I hadn't gotten Mono from Riley and been stranded on this couch for a week then I wouldn't have been here to like hold your hand through that awesome early first season episode when Emilio's bloody body mush falls out from the bottom of Jesse's bathtub."

She squishes a pickle chip between her fingers. "Gore would really make everything better: Mom's telenovelas, those Mr. Clean commercials where everyone's way too excited about mildew, my algebra class. But, you couldn't handle just a little bit of drug dealer brain-goo because you're insanely squeamish."

Justin scoffs, stirring his tea. "Squeamish? My all-time favorite rock band is T.O.B., Tears of Blood. Their hottest song is 'Crying Blood for You.'"

"Yeah, and it came out in like 1980-something. Also, newsflash: the only people who say 'rock band' when not referring to the video game are ancient and forty. Just say 'band' like a normal seventeen year old boy."

The door to the terrace slides open and Max strolls inside covered head-to-toe in peacock feathers and some sort of yellow goop. He splays his arms out, surveys his clothes, and shrugs. "Goodnight." He walks upstairs.

Alex shakes her head and nibbles on a chip. "The loft is going to smell like that for weeks."

Justin nods, switches off the T.V., and grins. "I really wish I could spend the rest of my summer vacation stalking them in Albuquerque. I cannot believe Jesse shot Gale! Did he really shoot him? What will the psychological ramifications of such a violent act have on Jesse? Why do I have to wait an entire year before season four starts?"

Alex wants to shove a pillow down Justin's throat, because really, everything doesn't need to be picked apart. And, she's not completely sure what 'ramifications' means other than a pretty funny image of a boy lamb behind a turntable, because that would be the best D.J. handle for a farm animal ever. But, shockingly, Justin's said something not stupid.

"Technically, we don't have to wait a whole year for fourth season."

He stands up, straightening the cushions. "I'm pretty sure we do considering they've just started filming yesterday, nine AM mountain time."

Alex raises an eyebrow.

"What? I follow Aaron Paul on Twitter."

She fake-coughs into her fist, "Man-crush."

He's gathering all her snack wrappers from the coffee table, and rolls his eyes. "Alex, we both know that if I were, emphasize on 'were,' to have a so-called man-crush on anyone on _Breaking Bad,_ it would be Bryan Cranston. He just doesn't have a Twitter account."

He stacks their dishes, and places them quietly in the sink. "You're the one who's in love with Jesse."

Alex stands with her Navajo blanket wrapped around her, watching Justin clean up like a total chump. "For someone who's practically babysat Cupid, you use 'love' way too casually. I am not in _love_ with Jesse."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that," he says. "If you need me, I'll be studying for our hand magic quiz on Tuesday."

It isn't until she hears his bedroom door close that she realizes he's distracted her from her evil scheming, and she does a broad, unnecessary scan of the living room before tiptoeing into the lair. She slides behind the front table and heaves their giant spell book open. And she has no idea where to start.

"Okay," she says. She's pretty sure these things come with a page near the beginning that tells you where stuff is, but she's not looking to rip off any of her skull and bones press-on nails. Flipping to pages at random has worked out pretty good in the past anyway.

After five or so minutes, she reaches a section about time travel and universes and other things she never pays attention to during wizard lessons. She really just wants a spell that will go into the future and deliver a nice, fourth season box set ready to pop into the DVD player, like right now. Honestly, the print in this thing is so tiny she's leaning about as close to the book as her dad does to an open door of a bakery. There's one of those ant-fryer spy glass things that kids use in detective shows on the corner of the table, and she grabs it. Justin had a lame presentation on this magic spy glass a couple of days ago. She was texting Harper about the new fro-yo flavors at 'Gurtbarn, but she vaguely remembers hearing Justin saying something about the thing-a -ma-bob making spells easier.

She's muttering "Breaking Bad" as her fingertip finds a button on the handle, and she presses it. The line directly underneath the glass lights up like a Broadway name. And just as the familiar electrical sound of magic sizzles nearby, she remembers why this tool is helpful. It's a shortcut to memorizing spells. Because you just point, click, and presto: you've ruined everyone's day. Well, that last part really only applies to her.

She tries to read whatever it is that's about to happen, but of course this is one of those annoying spells that hasn't been translated from Latin. Before she can do anything else, a blue glow hovers over the lair's recliner and morphs into the form of a guy. He's wearing Air Force Ones, baggy jeans with his legs splayed, and a giant, mustard-yellow hoodie. His head's tipped back, eyes closed, beer to his lips.

Alex latches a hand over her mouth because she definitely did not just squeak. But if she did, which she didn't, she really wouldn't be too hard on herself considering Jesse-freaking-Pinkman is sitting like twenty feet away. Jesse Pinkman is sucking down a bottle of beer in the lair, looking so him, maybe drunk, and absolutely hot.

The bottle is empty when he opens his eyes, and it's shattered on the ground by the time he's standing with that startled owl-look he gets when he's defensive or bugging out. "What…the…hell?"

She props an elbow on the table, flashing her most comforting smile, and does one of those finger waves she usually hates. Screw it, she's nervous. "Hi."

His "hi" sounds a lot slower and deeper, and hearing it feels like a splash of pool water on a sunburn.

He rubs his face with both hands. "Shit, I knew that guy looked sketch as shit. Douchebag spiked my weed. Badger vouched for him, fucking red flag. Shit, shit, shit."

"Whoa!" Alex says. "Never take advice from Badger. The dude can't even flip a sign right. Come on, Jesse."

His palms slide to the back of his neck. "What did you say?"

Alex mashes her lips together into a line.

He stomps up to the table, glaring. Up close, like probably two feet away, Alex can see from the way he's looking at her that he's not quite focused. She's pretty sure he's on something.

"Yo, how do you know my name, bitch?"

Alex grips the neckline of her camisole. Of course she's in her pajamas when she meets Jesse Pinkman. That's really an afterthought, because, _oh my, gosh_, she's beaming harder than Justin at PopCon. "Did you just call me a bitch?"

"Yeah," he says. He slaps the table, and leans forward. "Why are you happy about that?"

He squints. "And why do look familiar?"

She flips her hair over her shoulder, elbow back on the desk. "I look familiar?"

He's studying her, and Alex thinks this is a place she'd like to live forever, but then he snaps his fingers and points. "You're Hannah Montana. Yeah, Jake watches this show. You wear a blonde wig and like your dad had that shitty line dancing song from the 90s. And you talk in a super annoying…nasally…. Yo, why aren't you talking with a Southern accent?"

"Blonde wig? Southern accent? Is this like some role-playing thing you want to do? Because to be honest, I'm pretty killer at speaking British. And I have this cute, red plaid mini skirt that I got on sale at Suburban Outfitters that I swiped from an English chick while she was texting someone. I also have a red bra." She tries to shift her hair to her other shoulder, but knocks over a stack of flying carpet manuals like an idiot. She pops a hand to her waist and grins. "I'm Alex."

Jesse gives her a lingering onceover, leans closer. "How old are you?" He winces. "Forget it. I haven't had a wet dream since like ninth grade, and I'm probably too wasted to do anything. Shit, why do you look so familiar?"

She shrugs. "No idea. But, I can tell you that you are so not asleep right now."

Jesse closes his eyes, grabbing a handful of his hair. "Yo, if this isn't a dream, I'm tripping balls like no other."

Alex is fully aware that revealing magic to the world is wrong and unethical and blah, blah, blah, but Jesse isn't really a real person. It's like what they say, rules are made to be broken, and loopholes are the bomb. "Hypothetically, what would you say if I told you I was a wizard, and I know everything about you because your life is a T.V. show and I summoned you here by accident?"

He shoves his hand in his back pocket.

Alex does _not _feel like getting shot in the face, so she whips her wand out from her UGG boot. She's got it inches from his chest, the end glowing, and she realizes the only thing he's carrying is a pack of cigarettes.

He slips one between his lips. "That's a dope Harry Potter wand. Skinny Pete and Badger have ones that like make noises and shit."

Just as he strikes his lighter, Alex flicks her wand. The flame goes out, his cigarettes cracks in half, and he shoots back into the recliner. "Dude, don't smoke in the lair. This place doubles as a cooler for my family's sub shop. Can't have the cold cuts smelling like an ash tray."

He spits out the butt of his cigarette with a terrified expression. "Yo, why can't I move?"

"Oh, I paralyzed you from the neck down." Alex says this casually like she's giving him directions to Brooklyn.

She strolls over and sits on the armrest, reaching out to barely graze her fingers over the stubble on his jaw because she can, and she's still a little stunned. Her head is in dark, exciting places, and she has to blink a few times before she's pulled it out of the gutter.

"Okay, I think it's pretty obvious that you're not going to believe anything I say until we get this out of the way." She takes a deep breath through her nose. "Your name is Jesse Pinkman. You were born and raised in the ABQ and have a younger brother named Jake who is an overachieving geek, feel ya on that one, and you live at your Aunt Ginny's house. She passed away from cancer, and at some point you started to sell meth with this dumbass Emilio guy. He ended up as human Slurpee in your bathtub."

She pauses, a little proud of how attentive he is. "Walter White, who used to be your chemistry teacher, saw you slipping out of the window of some MILF's house during a bust, and he blackmailed you into selling meth with him. First you guys were in an RV, but like that didn't work out. Tuco kidnapped you, Hank killed him, and now you're working for Gustavo Fring who is like the creepiest badass I've ever seen. He hooked you guys up with a sweet lab, you know, when it's not contaminated by a fly and Vincent isn't watching you like a Hispanic gargoyle."

She taps her chin. "Oh, and your meth is blue because you stopped using cough syrup and stuff, and it has this other junk in it called menthol or something."

"Methylamine," he says. He licks the corner of his mouth, looking dazed. "How do you know all this shit?"

Alex sighs, because didn't she already go over this? "I'm a wizard, and I've watched your life as a T.V. show. It's called _Breaking Bad_. Tonight was the season three finale. And just to hurry this whole thing along, I can prove that by saying I watched you cap Gale in the face."

"What?" A strange mix of panic and confusion flickers over his features. "I didn't do anything to that guy. I barely know him. Gus fired him after I got out of the hospital. Yo, I don't even have a piece."

Something that may be guilt flares up in her gut like the nauseous feeling she gets when she's had too many hot garlic Buffalo wings, but she's not positive, because guilt really isn't her thing. "Interesting. Have you met a girl named Andrea?"

"Nah, like I don't think so."

"Tan skin, dark hair, less hot version of me?"

He shakes his head.

"You know, Brock's mom. Brock?" She playfully punches his arm, but he just stares where her fist was. "He's a little kid who doesn't talk much, but like pulls on your heartstrings or whatever, so you don't try to sell crystal to the mother of a small child."

He balks, seeming for real confused.

"She's in your NA group that you're using to sling dope onto because Fring won't meet with you and you feel shafted. You're skimming product off the top to prove to everyone you still have balls," she laughs, "Bitch."

Jesse appears to think this over. "Not gonna lie, that's a sweet plan. I mean, yeah, I've thought about taking a little off the side. But like, I didn't think about going after like a niche or whatever. You think I could, you know, borrow that idea? Maybe cut you in a little of the profit and you can like let me go home and not kill me with weird wizard shit?"

"It's your idea, and I would never kill you." She pats his chest, kind of lingers too long, and pulls back with a nervous chuckle. "So, you believe me now, right?"

"Well, I can't feel most of my body and you know shit that like no one else does. So, yeah."

"Awesome!" She smiles with her wand raised. Just because she has no idea of how to get him back into the word of his show, doesn't mean he needs to know that. Clearing her throat, she makes a spectacle of lowering her wand back to her lap with an eye-thing she thinks looks like she's hesitating.

"Hear me out for a sec. I _could _blip you back to your sad, lonely house in New Mexico so you can watch Walt spend an entire day flipping out over a fly, which I'm pretty sure is what you'd go back to._ Or_ you could play hooky with me, _and_ play video games."

"Yo, my arms don't work, bitch."

She lifts her wand to softly bob him on the nose. "Promise you won't run?"

"Yeah." With a flick of her wrist, he slumps forward. "That felt so weird. It's like my bones hurt."

She pats his chest again, because she doesn't do apologizes, and touching him is really fun. "So, have you ever played Mortal Kombat?"

"Duh," he says, rolling his shoulders into the back of the chair.

"Well, have you ever played Mortal Kombat with 3-D voice-activated holograms with real swords and ninja stars? Guess what? I already know you haven't." She stands and pulls him up to his feet. "Do you want to be the blue icy one or the orange one with the bug name?"

"Psh, I'm always Sub Zero."

"Yeah, well, I'm gonna…melt you…like…a puddle." She cringes, because _wow_, that was Justin-trying-to-flirt-with-a-customer lame.

"Nice smack talk."

She grabs a control from where she hid it in the book shelf and tosses it to him. "Just stand there and look cute while I karate chop you to pieces."

"Sure you will." He smirks, fiddles with remote. "Yo, how do you work this thing?"

She jabs her thumbs into the A and B buttons, yelling, "Round one!"

Their players are projected to life in exaggerated Kung-Fu fighting stances.

"Roundhouse kick!"

And Jesse's hologram drops like a water balloon from the terrace. A somewhat racially insensitive Asian male voice bellows, "Sub Zero, K.O."

Alex sighs when she's sees him all frustrated and sore loser-y. So she walks over, and points out all the buttons and explains it. And being fair really requires way too much talking. But, he seems to appreciate the effort. Once he's got the freezing move down, he grins and nudges her arm. This is the best night ever.

###

Alex feels something yank her arm hard enough to like dislocate her shoulder. The light in the lair is still on. Her feet are propped up on the table with the rest of her body snug against something soft that smells like that basement party she went to last week: weed, beer, and Axe body spray. Still exhausted, she remembers this is Jesse, and nestles closer into his jacket.

"Alex!" Crap. Only one person stage-whispers like that.

Before she can sit up, Justin hauls her off the couch. It's not until they're standing by the portal window that she notices he's changed clothes; equally dorky ones, but definitely a new outfit.

"What day is it?"

Justin scowls at her. "It's Monday morning."

He clutches her chin with one hand and shines his mini Star Wars flash lights in her eyes. "Alex Russo, are you inebriated?"

She shakes him off. "Speak English."

"Are you drunk?"

"What? I haven't had alcohol in…ever."

He rolls his eyes. "Alex, I've seen you drunk-eat Chunky Monkey on enough Saturdays at three in the morning on the kitchen floor to know that's a load of baloney. And, I just disposed of broken glass from a beer bottle on the floor. _And_," his whisper takes on a scandalized hissing effect, "Aaron Paul is clearly passed out on the couch! I know I made that stalking joke earlier, which, note to self: never do that in front of you again. But, that's completely different than teleporting/kidnapping Aaron Paul from New Mexico so you can…." He makes vague gestures with his hands that either mean breakdance-fighting or sex. She's not sure.

"We just played a bunch of video games last night. The 3-D ones got pretty exhausting so we switched over to normal Need for Speed, and I guess we just fell asleep."

"What about the beer bottle?"

"It was his. He only had one."

"It is still an enormous wizard ethical no-no to even play video games with whomever you want whenever you want, especially when they're filming the greatest television show of all time." He glances over at Jesse, and narrows his eyes. "Wait. Why is Aaron Paul dressed like Jesse Pinkman? By the time I left you in the living room, they would have been done shooting for the day."

Alex does her best like-I-give-a-crap shrug. "Maybe he's being like method or whatever."

Justin seems to mull this over as Jesse jerks awake, takes in the glare of the overhead light, and buries his face into the couch. "Yo, I need like mad amounts of Advil right now."

Justin cocks his head to the side. His face pales. "Alex, is that Jesse Pinkman?"

Jesse turns his head to them, heavily squinting. "Gatorade me, bitch."

Alex is laughing so hard she almost doesn't hear when Justin yelps out a, "Definitely Jesse!"

He grabs her elbow and tugs her to the front table, still whispering for some reason. "How did this happen?"

"I don't know. I was trying to find a spell that would let me…us…watch the fourth season now, and I used this," she lifts the spy glass, "whatchamacallit because the words are so small and well…." She points to Jesse who's still muttering about his headache.

"Alex, you used the Spy Spell? Were you not listening at all during my thoroughly researched, eloquently recited twenty minute presentation?"

She responds with a blank stare.

He nods. "Right, should have known that already, context clues and whatnot. So, what spell did you highlight?"

Alex turns to the spell book on the floor, which is still opened, but not anywhere near where she remembers reading from it. A light breeze of regret wafts through her brain before she pulls up one of those no-shits-were-given expressions that her teachers love so much. "I may not remember the name off the top of my head."

The veins in Justin's neck are getting all purple and angry.

She clasps her hands together. "_But_, I can narrow it down by telling you it was in Latin."

Justin's eye twitches, and she's reminded how this kid is like one Adderall and an A minus away from a complete mental breakdown. "Alex, there are over 500 spells still in their original Latin translation. Please tell me you know something, anything else about the spell."

She presses her fingertips against her forehead. "Uh, well, it was in the section about galaxies or like universes and stuff. I think."

He nods, arms crossed. "Okay, that at least narrows it down to approximately fifty or sixty. We can work with that."

Just as Alex is thinking of a way to throw all this junk on Justin, she realizes Jesse is slumped against the desk, looking all bleary-eyed and beautiful.

"Yo, Alex, what's a guy got to do around here to get some Gatorade?"

"We have PowerAde out in the soda fountain, which I'm sure my brother would love to get for you." She gives Justin a push, but he's staring at Jesse, mesmerized.

Justin actually waves, like a little-kid-in-front-of-Mickey-Mouse-wave. "I'm Justin!"

Jesse clearly gives no shits. "I'm thirsty, bitch."

Justin gleefully gapes, turning to Alex. "Did you hear that? He called me a b-word!"

"What is wrong with you people? Does bitch mean like something different here?" He straightens himself, stumbles a few feet. "Shit, I'm just gonna find some water."

"No!" Justin says. He seems slightly embarrassed for yelling. "One PowerAde coming up."

He scampers off to the sub shop, and since Alex doesn't have a lot of time, she's got her wand out before the door's shut.

"Last night ruled the body, now I rule the mind, still ill, now it's killed." Alex points her wand at Jesse, the blue aura around him dissolving as she smiles. "Best hangover cure ever."

He's patting himself down like he's searching for his keys. Or maybe he's just not used to magically-cured sicknesses; weird. "That was tight. I like don't feel anything."

Alex nods reverently. "Yeah, really helps when you're grandmother's in town, and you get dragged to a seven AM mass after you did like seven Jell-O shots the night before, and your mouth tastes like skittles and death."

He laughs and looks like he wants to say something, but Justin's jogging back with a large Waverly Place cup.

"I wasn't sure if you were more of a Fruit Punch or Mountain Blast kind of guy. So, I got Mountain Blast because it's blue." Justin proudly hands him the drink.

"Get it? It's blue, like your 'product.'" Justin winks.

"Good one." Jesse gives Alex one of those can-you-believe-this-guy glances, and she can't believe how quickly he's fitting in. "So, I guess you're a wizard too." He downs about half of his drink. "Does everybody know about me here or just like you and Alex?"

"That is an excellent question. Isn't it,_ Alex_?" Justin's jerking his chin in her direction like someone's lurking behind her back. But, when she turns around, it's just the same old bookshelf that's always there. "Never mind. Well, not everyone per se knows who you are. It's more of a select group of cultured individuals with refined tastes in pop culture…and Alex."

"Right, not sure if that was an insult, but I'll let ya have it anyway," Alex says. She has way more important, Jesse-filled things to do than translate nerd-burn. "Now, I think that you should finish that thing we talked about, you know, the whole Latin translation project, and I can show Jesse around New York."

Jesse grins. "Yo, we're in New York?"

Justin swings Alex around so her back's to Jesse, huddled close like when they conference-out a way to ditch Max after school. "Alex, I really don't think it's a good idea to frolic around the city with a fictional drug addict who is most likely carrying a firearm."

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. This Jesse is like from right after he went back to work at the lab. And you know what that means, right?" She smirks, nodding. He doesn't respond, and _gosh_, he's so hopeless. "He's single, you dummy."

"Who cares? Look…."

"No, you listen. Mom and Dad are going to be awake like super soon, and I don't think they'll be too happy if they see us harboring a meth-head. Just let me keep him occupied for a few hours while you find the spell, and we'll send him back before Mom's ten cheese enchilada surprise is out of the oven for dinner."

"A few hours? Alex, it's eight-thirty in the morning. Dinner won't be until seven, and that's only if pro-wrestling isn't on tonight."

Alex nearly gags. "Gross! I'm awake before noon?" She pinches the back of her neck. "So we'll be gone for most of the day. We'll get out of your overly-gelled, stupid hair, and you can concentrate. Then we can meet back in my room."

He frowns. "Fine. But, try to stay within the limits of all New York state federal laws."

"What's that? I think my selective hearing is being weird." She slaps his shoulder, turning back to Jesse fidgeting with his lighter. "Hey, you ready to go?"

His smile makes her feel like she's chain-drinking Red Bull. "Hell, yeah, bitch."


	2. Chapter 2

Jesse's never been to the Big Apple. He totally calls it that. So, Alex has no choice but to smack him upside the head as they're sitting in a mostly empty subway car, sharing the jumbo chocolate chip muffins they "liberated" from the sub shop. But, since everything's new, she humors him and goes to a lot of those tourist places like the Empire State Building, and Central Park, and Times Square. It takes an ungodly amount of time, and it's like she's toting around all her younger cousins again, except without all of the sticky handholding and shouting in Italian.

He's happy the whole time, like permanent grin, fresh-faced and easygoing. And seeing him like that makes all the crowds and walking and going to the Central Park Zoo for the millionth time pretty worth it.

They get pizza from a vendor a couple of blocks from the zoo, making their way to a 7-Eleven because he's out of cigarettes.

She takes a huge bite of her slice, talking with her mouth full. "Are there foods in Albuquerque that are like New York pizza? You know, like that people get there because they're, well, there."

He's polished his slice down to the crust, and he's got sauce on the corners of his lips, and it's pretty adorable. "I guess Mexican food is a pretty big deal." He glances at her. "Are you Mexican?"

She nods. "Well, my mom is Mexican. My dad is Italian. So, I'm both."

Jesse seems pretty focused on something as he crumples up his greasy napkins and does one of those flashy basketball tosses into a trash bin. "Your mom's Mexican. Your dad's Italian. You live on a street called Waverly Place. And you're a wizard."

He doesn't say anything for like a block and a half.

"What?" Alex says.

"Yo, I don't know." He scratches his head through the material of his beanie. "Thought I had something, but I fucking lost it. I swear you still look familiar."

"Understandable," she says. "Considering all of those hot dreams you have about me."

He rolls his eyes, smirking a little, and he's holding his hand flat about a foot over her head. "You gotta be at least this tall to ride this. And you know, legal and shit."

"You know, I have a wand that could make both of those things happen, right?"

They cross the street, silent for a while until he says, "Oh, the ABQ is also really big on green chili."

She elbows him. "Secret ingredient: chili p, yo!"

He gives her a double-take as they walk into 7-Eleven. "Yo, didn't I tell you to stop quoting me or whatever? Makes me feel like I'm SpongeBob-fucking-Square Pants. And it's creepy as hell."

The image of Jesse in a pineapple under the sea wearing tube socks and junk is too much, and Alex's cracking up as she surveys the drink selection.

She grabs a Diet Cherry Coke, turns to the front, and catches a glimpse of that stupid grey retro gas station shirt she's way too familiar with. "Crap."

"What?" he says, though he's not looking at her. He's got a Mountain Dew in one hand and a Dr. Pepper in the other.

As he's debating sodas, she's trying to decide if she has enough time to duck and hide. Because Mr. Gas Station Shirt is walking with some blonde chick in a way-too-short skirt and a stupidly ironic _Power Rangers_ shirt and she's pretty much cackling at whatever he's saying. They're right out by the front door.

Alex steps by Jesse to stand behind a chip display about forehead level. She lowers her voice. "My ex-boyfriend is about to walk in here. And I really don't want to talk to him, like at all."

Jesse turns on the heel of his sneaker, gripping a Mountain Dew, just as Dean and Blondie stroll inside.

"Youse gotta try anchovies at least once. They smell nasty, but those fishes don't taste nothin' like they smells." Dean's voice is as loud as ever, and it kind of physically hurts Alex to hear it. His new girlfriend or whatever is still giggling. Maybe she has like a condition, like Tourette's or she's the devil. Dean tickles her side in the candy aisle. "All's I'm sayin' is youse gotta have an open mind when you order at Sal's. Ya order cheese at Sal's and they'll kick ya out big time."

Alex is so focused on remembering Sal's on weekday nights of garlic knots and those salty, tiny fish and sometimes Dean's apartment afterwards when his mom wasn't home and she'd break curfew and say things like she missed her connecting train that it takes her a while to notice Jesse's snickering.

He's pretending to read the back of a pack of Funyuns. He whispers, "Why does your ex sound like he's doing a shitty impression of Fonzie? Like shit, does he strut around with a toothpick in his mouth and call people wise guys?"

"Oh, because you're white guy gangster act is so _cool_."

He trades his Funyuns for Jalapeño Doritos. "Yo, I'm legit, bitch. This douche seems about as badass as a stuffed bear in a leather jacket signing Elvis."

She glares at him, though it's kind of hard to look intimidating when you're hiding in snack foods. And yeah, Dean does have a leather jacket, and he may overdue the whole I'm-from-New-York bit a little too much. Who cares?

Jesse grabs for some Sun Chips, and it's a huge mistake. The packaging crunches in his grasp like it's wired with microphones. Alex tries to bend down lower, but her hair gets caught in the metal rack, and she clears a row of individually wrapped Oatmeal Crème Pies to the floor like it's her job.

Dean and the female version of The Joker are by the Slurpee machine, staring at her. And she hopes they both die of brain freeze.

Alex attempts to just sprint right out of there, but the second she moves, she remembers she's still literally attached. She starts to detangle herself from the convenient store fixture when Jesse chuckles. Now is really not the time to make fun of her.

"Whoops." He's like projecting or something, like everyone needs to hear this. And _gosh_, he seriously needs to shut up. Instead he steps behind her, one hand heavy on her hip, the other freeing her hair. His voice is kind of gravelly. "You're so cute when you're clumsy."

Just as she's taking in the warm weight of Jesse's chest on her back, his mouth is against her neck, and all thinking floats away into a sunshine land of rainbows and princess castles and things she would never ever admit to featuring in her happy place. She may even shudder as he presses another kiss closer to the hollow of her throat.

Dean's face is like a candy cane: pale and red all at once. He makes some joke to his girlfriend, but she's giving him a suspicious stink-eye, even after he's paid for their slushies and they waltz out with him attempting to hold her hand.

Alex has deliciously lost count of how many times Jesse's kissed her, only mildly embarrassed by the way that middle-aged dude buying batteries is staring at them.

"They bounce?" He's kissing his way closer to her ear.

She hates herself for it, but her eyes are all fluttery, and she swallows hard. "Not yet."

His laugh feels like the bass of a stereo against her skin. "Liar."

He pulls away with a big, loud smooch on her cheek like this is some hilarious joke she's needs to get in on.

Alex tries, really hard to, smoothing her palm down the side of her face like she can wipe away her flush. But, she's a quivering, flustered mess. He seems to notice, because he just laughs harder.

She's doing something with her voice that may be chuckling as they walk up to the counter. They're about third in line, and she jumps slightly when his hand is on her shoulder.

"Yo, they don't have my brand."

"Huh?"

"These bitches don't carry Wilmington's."

Alex realizes he's talking about cigarettes. "That's because they don't exist. Didn't you used to smoke like Parliaments or something in the earlier seasons?"

He points at her. "Don't refer to my life as a fucking T.V. show."

They're at the counter, the bald, portly attendant giving Jesse a surprised look she's seen a few people throw at him throughout the day. She isn't sure why, but no one's asked for an autograph, just stared and like shook their heads like they weren't positive it was him.

The guy rings up their drinks. "Man, I love _Breaking Bad_! My wife and I watched the finale last night. Best episode so far. Man, sometimes I really think you're on meth. You're doing a great job."

Jesse appears equally startled, irritated, and nervous. "Yeah, thanks man. Uh, I'll take a pack of Parliaments."

He retrieves them with a grin. "Too bad we don't have Wilmington's, am I right?"

Jesse nods, so distracted he even pays for Alex's soda.

He doesn't say anything until they're waiting at a crosswalk as he's lighting up. "Fucking weirdest day of my life."

Alex sips her drink, and steers him left. "Youse gotta have an open mind."

He laughs around his cigarette, and makes two thumbs ups. "Ay!"

They side-step a couple holding hands and start down the subway stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

"This is the Freedom Tunnel," Alex says. She throws her hands up, gesturing to the murals, graffiti, and sketches on the walls as she trots over to her supplies. "It used to be an abandoned train tunnel. But, the city made it so it's like legit for artists now."

Alex snatches up a can of lime green spray-paint. She pops off the lid and shakes it, steps back and starts to do some layering for the scales she already started on a few days ago.

"Sick." Jesse says it in awe. "Does it like mean something?"

She takes in her masterpiece: a flashy, almost surreal snake wrapped around a severed hand with the stump dripping blots of blood like ketchup from a really good burger. The snake's Day-Glo tangerine fangs are halfway in a blue vein across the wrist. She shrugs. "I just think it looks cool."

"Are any of these other ones yours?"

She points to a smattering of clouds with constellations swirling inside, and then to a skull she did with lilies blooming in the sockets.

"These would make some killer tats."

Alex feels like she's heard him say something similar, but she's not really sure when. He's staring at the skull design on the bricks. The dusky lighting of the tunnel emphasizes the ember on his cigarette and how much it's shaking between his fingers.

She gets a few steps closer to him because he looks so sad and puppy-like. And she kind of just wants to wrap herself around him like that snake. But, she's not _that _flexible, so she decides to gently tug on the droopy sleeve of his hoodie. She sways his arm back and forth. It was her go-to move when Max was little and crying and she was trying to watch T.V., and it always seemed to make him feel better.

"Hey, you still here?"

Jesse shakes his head. But, his fingers gently circle her wrist. His thumb's doing something that feels nice on the back of her hand. He drops it.

Alex is horrible when people get emotional or whatever, and she's desperately trying to think of some way to change the subject. "Can you keep a secret?"

He cocks an eyebrow. "Really?"

She scratches the back of her neck. "Yeah, I guess co-running a meth empire is kind of a big one."

She absentmindedly scrapes the bottom of her Converse against the concrete, and sighs. Looking both ways down the tunnel, she lifts the material of her red t-shirt all the way up to her collarbone. Along her right rib cage, just below the cup of her bra, is a series of seven, small swirling shooting stars in black ink. "Designed it myself. No one has seen it. You know, other than the tattoo artist. And like some creepy guys who were sitting in the shop with Taco Bell."

"Nice," he says. "Kind of cliché though. No offense."

Alex chews on the inside of her cheek. "I got it like right after school got out for the summer. My report card came in the mail. It was…well, not amazing, like I passed, but barely. I knew Justin was gonna get straight A's, because he has since like he was a fetus. But, then wizard report cards came out."

She kicks the empty paint can by her ankle, and the clattering is settling in the same way the noise of traffic helps her sleep. "I have this wizard competition coming up in a few years. Only one sibling in each family can stay a wizard, and this competition thing determines who that is. My younger brother, Max, is a total lunkhead. No worries there. But, everything comes easy to Justin. Like even when I try, I just, I don't know, screw it up. What's the point in studying and stuff when like I already know I'm gonna ruin it royally? The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to get this tattoo. Because even when I lose my powers forever and become normal, I can look at this and…feel like there's still a little magic left in me."

She shuts her eyes at how utterly cheesy that sounds. Her shirt's still hoisted up like she's waiting for someone to toss her some beads. Then a quivering sensation shoots to her gut. And she doesn't know why until she recognizes the texture of fingertips on her tattoo.

With her eyes open, it seems like he's searching for words. It's pretty endearing because he's only known her for like a day. His thumb is doing that nice thing again, like a calming, stroking motion that would most likely prevent her from hearing anything he'd have to say anyway.

She stares at his mouth. He pulls back.

"Alex!"

She tugs her top down, awkwardly messing with her hair. Harper glides out from a shadowy spot in the tunnel like she's Batman or something. Well, if Batman carried an unnecessary flash light and wore a dress covered in blue and pink cotton candy.

"Hey, Harper!" Alex says. Her fake enthusiasm is pointless because Harper drags her past three murals before she faces Alex with her judgment eyes ablaze.

"Alex Russo." Her tone is all sorts of sharp and appalled and a crappy attempt at hushed.

Jeez, do none of her friends know what the term 'whispering' means? Oh man, did she just call Justin a friend? What's happening to her today?

Harper cups the side of her mouth. "What do you think you are doing?"

"That depends," Alex says. She twirls a lock of hair around her finger. "What exactly did you see?"

Even with Harper's flashlight off and just a single bulb above their heads, Alex can tell Harper's blushing. "It seems as if you were standing in the dark…with a man, like a grownup man…and your blouse was not covering what it should have been covering. And he was _touching _you."

Alex is more than relieved that Harper didn't get a peak of her tattoo, which means this won't swing down the line to Justin and then to her definitely red-faced, incoherently sputtering father. No one needs to know about her new ink or those permission slips she forged or the cash she "borrowed" from Justin.

Harper shakes Alex by the shoulder. "I know you're still upset because Dean broke up with you, but that is no excuse for allowing someone to violate you in public."

"Chill out. It's not violating if I like it," Alex says.

Harper chokes out a gasp that reminds Alex of one of those ladies in big dresses with the hoops underneath who go around fainting a ton. "You like _that _guy?" Her eyes dart over her shoulder. "He was smoking a _cigarette_! And he's dressed like a_ hooligan_, a hooligan, Alex. Don't you know what kinds of things hooligans do? _Drugs_, like drug-drugs, like the _really bad_ ones."

"Yo, I can hear everything you're saying!" Jesse has a stack of spray-paint cans piled up with a loose rail road track poised like he's about to demolish the thing. And it looks way more fun than continuing this conversation.

Alex yells, "Batter up!"

Jesse grins, swings away, and the cans tumble in about every direction. It's a mess and chaotic and she loves it.

"I totally have to try that!" Alex moves to run over to him, but Harper is being so clingy today, literally clinging to her shirt.

"Did you forget we had plans today?" Harper passes a hand down her ridiculous homemade dress like she's showing off that Mustang Alex has had her eye on. "Cotton candy? We're supposed to go to 'Gurtbarn and try the new cotton candy flavor. Jiminy Crickets, Alex, does the sanctity of Fro-yo Fun-day Monday mean nothing to you?"

Alex grimaces. "Not if you keep calling it that. Look, I just had a lot going on. Why don't we…."

"Yo," Jesse says. He flips the board in the air and catches it. "Let's just go to this fancy yogurt place. I'm hungry as fuck."

Harper's cheeks flare up like Raspberry Rad nail polish because, in her words, she's "allergic" to "swear" words.

It's close to like a natural phenomenon that Jesse only drops another three F-bombs on the way to 'Gurtbarn. The train is packed with people getting off work, so they don't talk until they're sharing the only free bench that's also in front of Al's Liquor Mart. The tables in front of 'Gurtbarn were overrun with children and their bobbed-haired, giant sunglass-sporting mothers. It was disgusting.

Harper licks her spoon of brightly colored yogurt like she's five. She shoots a hand over Alex's fro-yo because Alex is sitting between her and Jesse. "I don't think we were properly introduced. I'm Harper."

Jesse wasn't feeling 'Gurtbarn, opting for hot dogs instead. He wipes mustard from his mouth and gives Harper a sideways high-five. "Jesse."

Harper scrunches her nose up, delicately wiping her palm with a napkin. "It's lovely to meet you, Jesse. I'm not sure if Alex told you, but I'm her best friend. We've known each other since kindergarten."

"That's a fucking long time."

Harper wilts over her cup. "I guess that's one way to put it."

He doesn't notice. "So, you guys are pretty tight? What do you think of Alex?"

The sidewalk is packed with pedestrians, bicycles, and briefcases. But, Alex is one hundred percent focused on whatever this is, mostly because it's happening across her lap and it involves her name.

Harper eyes Jesse warily. "How do_ you_ know Alex? I've never even heard her talk about you."

He lifts a shoulder. "We're new friends."

Harper seems to wait for more of an explanation, but gives up when he burps. She lifts her plastic spoon to her lips. "Alex and I have been friends for so long that answering such a broad question like," she deepens her voice, "'what do you think of Alex' would be nearly impossible, and take about two weeks."

"Just summarize it or some shit. Like, how would you describe her?"

Alex palms the side of her face. Yeah, she likes when she's the center of conversation, but not when it's drawn out and awkward and really random. "Does this have a point?"

Jesse frowns. "I'm trying to make small-talk."

Alex can almost feel Harper go into full-on peace-keeper-mode, patting Alex on the knee with a nervous chuckle. "Right, so, how would I describe Alex?" She pops another scoop of yogurt in her mouth. "The most Facebook-condensed version I can think of is…she's a stubborn, outgoing…snarky, apathetic… adorable sociopath."

Alex's fro-yo has been bye-bye for a while now, so she's gnawing on the end of her spoon when she smiles. "Aww, that's so sweet."

Harper claps in excitement. "I know, I didn't even mention how you're a slob or at times an absolute menace to all living things in your general vicinity."

"Nailed it." Alex sighs contentedly.

Jesse's shaking his head as he bites into his second hot dog, spilling relish over his knuckles.

Harper pointedly coughs. "Okay, Jesse. How would you describe Alex?"

He takes his time chewing over his food and swallowing. His gaze shifts from across the street to Alex's face. "I guess she's pretty awesome."

A loopy balloon animal of giddiness inflates inside of her, and she's got her top lip between her teeth to keep from grinning like a deranged clown.

Harper just mutters to herself, "Mine was way better."

That's debatable.


	4. Chapter 4

The sub shop is on Harper's route home, so she tags along until about two streets over. Harper's candy-themed plastic watch says it's almost six-thirty, which means it's time for her to make dinner for her parents.

"They're probably waiting for me now, sharing meaningful glares as they fight over the newspaper," Harper says. "If I don't get back soon, the apartment will look like one of my papier-mâché crafts exploded."

Alex never knows how to respond when Harper talks about her bizarre home life. Plus, the train got so packed that she was like pasted to Jesse's side, and he was saying funny things in her ear the whole time, and she's kind of zoned Harper out.

Alex just nods. "Thanks for the fro-yo, Harper."

Jesse has wandered over to a coin-operated magazine bin, drumming on the metal top like it's a bongo.

"No Problem," Harper says. Now_ she _sounds distracted, kind of analyzing Alex. She crosses her arms. "You look _too_ happy."

"You say it like it's a bad thing."

"I am well aware that it would be an excellent thing for most people to look over-the-moon joyous and fancy-free. And, it would be a nice thing for you too, if it wasn't because of _that _over _there_."

"His name is Jesse," Alex says.

She can't hear his drum solo anymore. When she glances over, he's talking to some chick in skinny jeans, heels, and a fancy sweater. Alex can only see the back of her head, but the way Jesse's standing and smirking make it look like he's flirting.

"Look," Harper says. Alex _is _looking. Harper drapes her arm over Alex's shoulder in a very _Full House_ kind of way, and sighs. "You know what really captures this particular quandary? The classic TLC song _Waterfalls_: 'Don't go chasing waterfalls. Just stick to the rivers and the lakes that you're used to. I know….'"

Jesse leans just slightly closer to this skank, biting his lower lip, and Alex has to turn around before she accidentally zaps a gorilla face on the chick's stupidly shapely figure.

"Got it, Harper: avoid waterfalls, rivers are cool, always swim with a buddy," Alex says. "You're going to be late."

Harper throws her arms up. "That is not at all what I said."

"Dude, it's called the Spark Notes version."

Harper laces her fingers together, titling her head to one side. "It's called not listening. Alex, I don't know any other way to say this to you, so I apologize for sounding crass. But…." She ushers Alex under the awning of a closed flower shop. "As I said before, Jesse is a grownup. I have no idea where you guys met or how, but you say you like him. And, well, grownups tend to like to do _grownup_ things with other _grownups_."

Alex presses a finger to her temple. "For god's sakes, Harper, please stop saying that word. I feel like I'm watching some sort of Barney PSA on stranger danger. And this isn't really the way I wanted to tell you, but between you and me, I've already done…adult things."

"Alex Russo!"

"Harper Finkle!" she says just as aghast.

"With Jesse?"

"No!" Alex says. She doesn't tag on how Jesse's pretty much turned her down more than once. Looking over her shoulder, she sees he's now chatting up a red head in an A-line dress carrying a massive Kate Spade tote bag.

Harper pokes Alex's stomach. "With Dean?"

Alex nods.

"Is that why he broke up with you?" Harper fiddles with the carousel charm on her necklace.

"Wow, Harper, you think I'd be _that _bad at it? Just because I'm not the most warm, nurturing person in the world doesn't mean I can't do a thing or two with this pretty mouth. And for your information, I can…."

Harper clamps her hands over her ears, mumbling "la, la, la, la" until Alex tells her to stop.

"Good grief, that's not what I meant. It's just like what they say in health class, you know, like a guy will leave after he gets what he wants."

Alex feels way less insulted. "Dean wasn't like one of those guys. It just didn't work out."

Harper pats Alex's shoulder. "But, is that why you were so down about the breakup? Because he was your first? They talked about that in health class too, and it's apparently supposed to be pretty heavy."

Alex can't believe she's having this kind of talk right out in the open with a girl who can't bear to say the word "sex." She's pretty sure telling Harper that Dean wasn't her first would put everyone's ears in a five mile radius in jeopardy of bleeding out from all of the shocked shrieking. "I guess it was part of the reason."

"Oh, Alex, you should have told me. I would have understood." Harper pulls Alex into a hug. "Or I at least would have read the chapter about it in a parenting book and then understood. You can't keep all that bottled up inside."

Alex claps Harper on the back to wrap this whole thing up because Jesse's been unsupervised for long enough, and she wants to get him somewhere safe before he's carried away by a gang of big breasted strippers. It's New York, so you never know. "Thanks, Harper. I promise to let you know if anything else happens. Now I seriously think you're going to be late."

Harper jerks back, startled. "Oh, no! See ya!"

She darts through an Asian family, apologizes and runs off.

Alex scratches at an itchy spot on her wrist and sees Jesse waiting alone with a cigarette.

"What's up with her?"

"Dinner plans or something," Alex says.

"You okay?"

She realizes she's staring at the sidewalk, acting all pouty like someone's annoying jealous girlfriend. "I'm fine. Let's just get this over with."

They walk to the back of the sub shop by the dumpster where no one else is mingling or paying any attention to, and she brings her wand out.

"We have to be like touching in some way for this to work. And no, I'm not trying to hit on you." It comes out way more serious than she'd meant it to, and he looks almost hurt as he stomps his cigarette out.

He places a hand on her lower back.

She shivers despite herself, hesitates. Then she twirls her wand, and they appear in her bedroom.

Justin's stationed at her desk, surrounded by a nauseatingly gigantic collection of books. "Did you guys have fun?"

"Whatever," Alex says. He sounds way too calm and collected to be healthy for a guy who alphabetizes his vitamins.

Justin moves her desk chair to face them with the wizard computer in his lap. "Good to hear. Now, I think you'll need to sit down. We've got a fish to fry so big Hemingway is writing about it from the grave."

Alex figures that Jesse looks just as confused as she does, because Justin groans something about literacy. "Just sit down."

She plops down on the edge of her bed, and Jesse follows along.

"Okay," Justin says. "What do you want first, the decent news or the bad news?"

"Bad," Jesse says.

Justin freezes with a sheepish expression on his face. "Uh, well, it's more dramatic if I do it the other way around."

"Justin!" Alex says.

"Sorry." He sets the laptop down and rests the spell book on his knees. "So, after hours of research, cross-referencing sources on universe crossing, and trying to figure out which page smelled the most like potato chip grease and pickles, I was able to find where Alex got her spell."

Justin brings the book to Alex. The place looks vaguely familiar. Jesse curiously leans over, and his knee brushes hers, and she doesn't hate it.

"Considering the nature of our situation, I am positive that the spell is one of these three." He points to each with a kind of condescending confidence that reminds her of how much Justin acts like a high school teacher-in-training.

"However, Alex was incorrect in assuming it was written in Latin. Aside from the deductions I made earlier, all three of these spells are similar in that they are transcribed in an ancient wizard language that dates back to the Celtic druids. Currently, there is only one text that would translate these, and that book is located in one of the libraries in NYU."

"Great. My life sounds like an Indiana Jones movie," Alex says. Not everything he explained exactly registered with her or whatever, but she got the highlights. "What's the decent news?"

"That _was_ the decent news." He places the book on her desk and plucks the laptop back up. "I was checking my wizard email, and noticed a mass message to all wizards in the city. Surprisingly enough, I learned something new today. When a wizard takes a fictional character from any medium into the real world, the wizard counsel is alerted of this immediately via an alarm system. The wizard is allowed twenty-four hours with said fictional character before…."

"Stop calling me that," Jesse says. He's been squirming this whole time, and he seems tense.

Justin swallows nervously. "My apologies. So, the wizard is allowed a limited time with the…teleported individual before the wizard counsel receives a second warning. At this stage, the sheltering of this person is considered a violation. I can't find any clear answers as to why, but I'm pretty sure if it wasn't a violation we'd have approximately 3,000 Ryan Goslings circa _The Notebook _going around, paddling boats in old-timey hats, talking about birds." He shakes his head. "Even though interacting with teleported individuals appears common enough to warrant correctional measures, I can't find any data on if and/or how the universe that is left behind is altered. I don't even know whether time passes in the same frequency. The only other information I'm aware of it is that if the wizard does not return the individual, any and all wands used around them will act like a GPS system for the wizard counsel to find…and…terminate them."

Jesse lurches forward, his knee colliding into her thigh, and she glares at the joint like its conspiring against her. "Yo, terminate?"

"Hey, let's focus on the positives," Alex says. She slaps a smile on her face.

"As long as we don't use our wands near Jesse, the wizard counsel will not find and…murder him." She shrugs. "Justin can go down to that book renting place tomorrow morning, figure out the spell, and we'll only need to use magic to send him home."

"That is very true." Justin closes his computer, sliding the chair further back to the desk like he's anticipating something. "If we don't use wands around Jesse, he is completely safe. Unfortunately, this particular NYU library is under construction…and won't be accessible for…a week. Eight days, to be precise."

Alex can feel Jesse relax as he rubs a hand down his face. "I can live with that."

Justin's eyebrows shoot up to an almost cartoonish degree. "Really? Well, this turned out to be a much more civil discussion than I'd anticipated. Whew." He chuckles. "So, I'm going to go get some grub. You guys hungry?"

Alex honestly isn't mostly because her stomach is currently digesting the idea of Jesse staying for another eight days and how he doesn't seem mad or anything.

"Nah, I'm pretty tired," Jesse says. He nods to Alex. "Is it cool if I just crash?"

She's not sure why he's asking her for permission, but Justin apparently does because he's standing with a girlish hand on his hip.

"Whoa there, buddy. If you're going to be staying here, you're not shacking up with my sixteen-year-old little sister. You can stay in my room on my roll-up cot I got for Boys Scouts."

Jesse shakes his head, clearly not having it. "Yo, I am not staying in your room, man. You've been throwing creepy-ass looks at me, and I don't know what kind of shit you're into. Just cause you're not using your wand for magic shit doesn't mean you can't use it for like prison stuff while I'm asleep."

Alex has literally never seen Justin more disgusted, and that includes the time that leprechaun puked corn beef stew in his hair. She'd usually let Justin flounder in this mess, kind of like the vomit incident. But, she'll help him out for like once. And really, getting repeatedly rejected by one of her all-time favorite characters has kind of dumped a bucket of water on any bunking-up excitement.

"Jesse, I can vouch for him. He definitely plays for the same team you're on. And his floor is carpeted, so you'll probably be more comfortable there anyway."

Justin is in front of her in a flash, jerking his chin to the side of her room by her closet like he wants to speak in private. She moves to stand, but Jesse grabs her shoulder.

"Yo, I'm sick of all this side-conversation shit going on all the time. I feel like a fucking kid who doesn't know his parents are splitting up and everyone's talking like around him like little bitches."

Alex nods. "That's fair."

Justin glances at Jesse then whispers to Alex, "Are you alright?"

Jesse holds out his hands. "Side-conversation, bitch."

"Justin, I'm cool. I woke up at flipping eight-something in the morning, and I don't feel like arguing with you."

Jesse lightly nudges her side. "Yo, I don't know if you're pissed at me or something, but I'd straight-up feel better if I slept in here."

She is seriously getting sick of talking about this. "Why don't I just sleep on the cot, and Jesse can take my bed?"

"Alex, did you eat another spoiled bean burrito from Frankie's?" Justin palms her forehead. "Did you get Mono from a street urchin?"

She stands. "Attention everyone in this room: I am totally fine. And I'm going to get Justin's stupid camping stuff."

Alex ambles out of the room without another word, retrieves the thin, partly-inflated mat and matching sleeping bag from under his bed, and arranges them on the rug portion of her hardwood floor.

She gets ready for bed quickly, changing into a tank top and long flannel pants in the bathroom, and pulls her hair up into a ponytail. Justin lets her know he told mom, dad, and Max that she'd already eaten with Harper and is messing around on her computer in her room. He also asks if he's sure she feels okay like five more times, and she has to throw her bottle of face wash at him for him to finally leave her alone.

Jesse's under the covers on his back when she slides through the door, and she switches off the light.

She wriggles into the sleeping bag, wrestles with her pillow a little, and desperately attempts to get comfortable on this stupid excuse for a cot.

"You seriously sleeping on the floor?"

Hearing his voice in the darkness of her room is like a jolt to all her pulse points, and she really wishes he was passed out already.

"Yeah," she says.

"Why are you pissed at me?"

"I'm not."

"Fuck that. You're in a fucking nylon bag on your own bedroom floor."

Alex adjusts the zipper under her arm. "I just want to sleep, alright?"

She can hear the sheets make a series of swooshing sounds until he's still. Then all she can hear are the noises of nightlife and car horns that chirp her closer to dreamland like industrial crickets. That would actually make a pretty sweet painting.


	5. Chapter 5

The only cereal left in the pantry is Raisin Bran, and Alex wants to break down in tears. She got maybe four hours of sleep last night, and her neck hurts like when she lays on the couch for too long, and she's starving. Cereal is her go-to meal for anytime of the day, which might be why they're out of all kinds edible. Her stomach has decided toast and/or instant apple cinnamon oatmeal sound gross, and she wonders what Jesse would want. Doesn't he like pancakes?

"Who doesn't?" She's talking to herself, but whatever, she's hungry.

Yanking the fridge door ajar, she decides if she's up this early she might as well cook or whatever. It's been a while since she made something that wasn't a PB & J. But, using pans and like ingredients that don't come in jars sounds saner than watching Jesse sleep. So, she fries up a couple of eggs, makes pancakes from a box, and uses the plastic spinning thing her dad ordered on T.V. to microwave some bacon. Luckily her parents are still asleep because she's sure she'd have another hand on her forehead if they caught her using the gas stove for non-pyro-related things. To cover up the evidence, she actually cleans dishes before spraying the kitchen down with an almost toxic amount of lemon air freshener.

Since it's suspicious to have two plates of food, she heaps everything onto one. She grabs a glass of orange juice, two forks, and quietly pads up the stairs, back to her room.

Jesse's sitting up in bed, fully dressed with a large book in his lap. It's her yearbook from last year. He looks up and smiles. "Yo, you made me breakfast?"

She settles down next to him with a leg tucked underneath her, brandishing a fork in each hand. "I made _us_ breakfast."

"Sweet," Jesse says. He takes his utensil and cuts out a huge wedge of syrup-drenched pancake.

She takes a slice of bacon.

Jesse gets a forkful of scrambled eggs, drizzled in a green sauce. He tentatively tastes it, and grins. "Green chili."

Alex stabs a bite of everything because it makes kind of a McGriddle in her mouth, which would be so boss with some French fries right about now, but she can't use her wand. "I saw it in the cupboard, and I thought, you know, why not?"

"It's awesome. Thanks," he says.

She licks the syrup off the points of her fork and absently taps it against her hand. "Why were you looking at my year book?"

He shrugs. "I didn't know where you went, and like, I guess I started thinking about high school and shit. It was on your dresser."

She sips some orange juice, and hands him the glass. "What was Walt like as a teacher?"

Jesse snorts. "Uptight as shit. He gave a ton of homework and like talked the whole class. We barely did any of like the cool experiment shit that the other teachers did. It's like he just wanted to show off how much of a giant nerd he was and fucking blab about science. Justin kind of reminds me of Mr. White. You know, like before the cancer and crystal and murder."

Alex laughs. "Oh god, _please _don't tell him that. Walt is his favorite character." She winces. "Walt is Justin's favorite…person. I mean his favorite person on the…show. I'm just gonna shut up before you start to feel like a talking sponge again."

"Appreciate it," he says with a mouthful of bacon, kind of smiling. "You got a favorite?"

She gives him a dead stare. "Yeah, he's a skinny guy with a cute face who wears clothes big enough to like smuggle sacks of potatoes in, and…" she sets her fork down on the empty plate, "he's like super cool, but he doesn't know it."

She picks at some lint on the strap of her tank top because she doesn't want to look at him, and also lint is stupid. "What's your favorite kind of cereal?"

"Cap'n Crunch."

He doesn't ask for hers, which like breaks the law of cereal small talk. Then she notices he's staring at her expectantly. Oh.

"Cap'n Cook, right?" She squints. "I thought you hate when I make references to your life."

"It's called a test._ And_ ya failed, bitch."

His tone is light, and it's shocking how affectionate he can make the word "bitch" sound. It's like move over smooth-voiced R & B dudes, Jesse's going to call your woman a bitch, and then, _poof_, no clothes.

She's kind of staring at him. His head's down because he's got their fork hovered over a blob of egg, trying to stab it as it slides around like he's spear-fishing or something. It wobbles to the lip of the plate before he gets the fork in. He makes an excited hooting noise, and proudly brings it to his lips. His eyes flick to her face, and the questioning expression he's using is another reminder that Jesse's not on her T.V. anymore where it was totally normal to gawk at him as much as she wanted. He's like three-dimensional, and she told him stuff back in the Freedom Tunnel she's never said to anyone, and realizing that pulses a feeling in her body like all her nerves are one giant funny bone that she just smacked into a wall.

He's looking at her, and she thinks that she maybe wants to freeze him again. Just the idea of running her hands over his body, in his hair, possibly "adjusting" a couple of items of clothing makes her arm reach out towards him.

She only makes it to his knee, where he's got the orange juice, and she tips the glass back to drink the last of it. "My favorite cereal is a tie between Lucky Charms and Cookie Crisp. Sometimes I get in a mood where like I only want to eat Corn Pops though. And Fruit Loops are pretty amazing."

"Yo, Fruit Loops are the bomb," he says.

"Better than Trix?"

He scoffs. "No competition. Trix is like Fruit Loops' punk-ass little cousin who never fucking shuts up about his Pokémon cards."

"Right? And Fruity Pebbles are like that guy's older brother who thinks it's cool to wear visors and like sunglasses inside. Fruit Loops is all like 'get on my level, bitch,' but no one can because he's like the king of fake fruit."

Jesse is laughing hysterically, and she's pretty proud of herself because Harper would have thought that joke was juvenile or something.

Alex hops from the bed and grabs the extra set of video game controls from under her nightstand. She wags them back and forth. "Re-match?"

"Hell, yes!"

They play Mortal Kombat for almost two hours. He's a lot better than the other night, and he's gloating like a total jerk. She's just positioned her hologram to snap his hologram's neck when the door opens without a knock or anything.

"Good afternoon," Justin says. "Alex, please shut that off. I'm trying to study, and your room sounds like a Jackie Chan movie."

"More like Bruce Lee," she says.

"Backflip," Jesse says. His hologram completely clears hers. "Throat punch!"

Her ninja keels over, and she shuts off the game.

Jesse dramatically shoots his arm out, and drops the controller like he's Jay-Z or something. "Boom!"

"Thank you," Justin says. "Now try to keep it down in here."

"Aren't your parents at work now?" Jesse sits back down on the bed, bouncing a little. "We could sneak out and shit and like go somewhere. I've heard the Statue of Liberty is pretty sick."

Justin's shaking his head before Alex can answer. "Dad is at work. Mom has decided she needs to re-learn how to sew, and she's camped out at the dining room table with a stack of Martha Stewart magazines. Her first project is stitching the elbow patches back on to my tweed jacket…from the _third grade_. She's going to be there all day."

"Yo, were you a fifty-year-old man in the third grade?" Jesse laughs, and Alex high-fives him.

Justin mashes his lips together in frustration. "It's so nice having a second Alex around the house. Regardless, of my advanced elementary school wardrobe, there is no way you'd be able to 'sneak out.' Basically, you're stuck here. And, I don't just mean today. Mom and Dad are always in and out of the loft. It's way too risky for you to just waltz through the living room. So, yeah, Jesse, you're stuck on the second floor with this self-centered brat."

"Don't be such an asshole to your sister. I ain't seeing you giving your bed up and making me dope pancakes and shit."

Alex wants to rewind that last part, because damn it, Jesse, don't eat and tell.

"Alex Russo made you pancakes?" Justin's lame eyebrows are trying to escape up his forehead again, or he's probably just stunned. "I have lived with Alex through a lifetime of mother's and father's days, birthdays, anniversaries, and thanksgivings, and I have never seen her cook, bake, or stir-fry someone else even a morsel of food…ever."

Justin makes a spectacle out of looking back and forth between the two of them. "I hate to break it to you, Jesse, but I think she's in love you."

"I think your psycho pills need to be refilled," Alex says. Great, that wasn't even clever, and she knows it.

Jesse clears his throat. "So, if I'm gonna you know, be here for like a week, I'm gonna need some stuff. I'm sick of wearing these clothes, and like I haven't showered in days."

Justin smirks, stroking his chin. "Huh? Sounds like someone needs to run errands. Alex, want to put another thing on your never-done-before list, and help a guy out?"

She grumbles something that sounds pretty close to "dickhead" under her breath as she grabs her math notebook from the floor and a pen, flips to one of the many empty pages, and hands it to Jesse. "Sure. Just tell me what you need."

"And," Justin says, arms crossed. "No using magic to do the errands for you. Under the regulations of the wizard counsel, it is considered stealing. Also, all teleporting wand spells have been temporarily flagged as 'risky behavior.' So, not of that either. Good luck."

With that, he strolls out and closes the door.

A couple of minutes later, Jesse rips the sheet out and gives it back to Alex. His handwriting is pretty crappy, but it's legible. He's mostly asked for toiletries and some extra clothes, and she's fine with that even if she suddenly isn't allowed to teleport her way around the city, which she was totally banking on. The wizard counsel, with their old man beards and stupid, random spell banning, was really making her life a lot crappier recently.

She tries to avoid another gross flashback to the time her and Justin had to comb Professor Crumbs' facial hair when her eyes reach the bottom of the page. His last three requests are cigarettes, liquor (of any kind other than some fruity vodka shit or really anything girly and fruity), and weed.

"Hmm, I thought you made it pretty clear that you know I'm sixteen. So, what the hell?"

"You're telling me _you_ don't have a fake?"

"Well, yeah, I do." She fiddles with the hole-punched corner of the paper. "And, if I wear a low enough neckline, I can score the cigarettes and liquor at Al's. But, I've only smoked weed like three times, and all of those I totally bummed from drunk guys ignored by their girlfriends at parties."

"Come on, Alex, please. I'm getting like the shakes and shit." Jesse tips his head in that flirty way she's seen from the show and just last night when he was schmoozing on those randos. He scrapes his teeth across that dumb bottom lip of his.

But, she knows between his mouth and her, she is most definitely the dumber one. "I may have a connection with a wizard who knows a spell that could get me some pot. Can you at least spot me some cash?"

"Yeah, of course," he says. He pulls his wallet out of his back pocket. "Shit. Most of my money is back at my house, and I spent a ton on food yesterday. I only got a five and three ones."

Alex snatches the money anyway, and walks to her dresser to pick out something skimpy, but not skanky because her schedule is now full of conning. So, it's a normal Tuesday.

She pulls out a white sequined V-neck, a black denim mini-skirt, and her galaxy-print push-up bra. Despite feeling like a prude, she changes in the bathroom again. She swipes on some makeup and even pokes around her hair with a curling iron. The waves are a little messy, but she just shrugs in the mirror, makes what she's pretty sure is a Victoria's Secret model pose, and takes her pajamas back to her room.

After slipping into a pair of ankle boots, she pulls the strap of her biggest messenger bag onto her shoulder, and tosses all her necessary stuff in it.

Jesse must be in like desperate need of a joint because he's tossing her some smoky-eye leers. It makes her want to like be one of those mustached creepy dudes overacting in a sexual harassment video and involve some favors in this whole errand running crap.

Alex throws on a black cardigan as parent-approved camouflage, and she thinks she's ready until she remembers she's leaving him in her room with nothing to do. So, she collects an armful of car and sports and overall guy-stuff magazines from Max's room, a bag of BBQ chips, some snack cakes, and a couple of Cokes from the pantry, and the T.V. remote from her vanity, and dumps them in his lap.

"This should tide you over for however long this takes. Try to be covert or whatever when using the bathroom. And if you smoke, for the love of god, open a window."

"Fucking awesome! Thanks!"

It sounds sincere, and as cliché as it would be, she wants him to follow that up with something like "I'll make it up to you" and like a bass guitar starts playing and he's wearing a tool belt for no reason.

"Whatever," she says.


	6. Chapter 6

After a stop at CVS where she probably spent way too long sniffing men's body washes, trying to decide which one she'd most like lathered all over Jesse, she steps into a clothing store called Streetz. She's never been inside before, but several of the mannequins are wearing obnoxiously loud, triple-XL graphic tees, so it's worth a shot.

Alex ambles over to the first rack. "Okay, I'm dressing a scarecrow who like listened to a lot of Eminem growing up."

She wanders around for a while before deciding on two pairs of dark jeans in a size she hopes is big enough. They have a buy one, get one free deal on men's shirts, so she buys four in ridiculous designs: one red with a black and silver tiger, a duller red one with a faded metallic gold dollar sign, a kaleidoscope-like print of black skulls on a white background, and a black one with a glow-in-the-dark handgun oozing zombie guts with the words "The End is Near" underneath. She grabs two packs of boxers in the least embarrassing print they carry, which is fittingly dark grey with green pot leaves. They have matching pajama pants, so she gets those too. On her way to the register, she sees a military jacket that's been knocked down to $20. She snags it because she's only had about twenty or so dreams with him wearing one. At least he had the jacket on until she'd take advantage of primo dreamland opportunities like an empty RV or finding herself in the backseat of his Monte Carlo, pre-Tuco, with the hydraulics on and random dessert around them or getting Jesse flush against his futon, when she'd slowly undress him. It was probably closer to thirty dreams than twenty, really. So, for twenty dollars, math-wise and all, it just makes sense.

There's some stupid maintenance issue with the train line she needs to take, and after waiting for who knows how long, she just walks. It takes her about an hour to get to Al's Liquor Mart, which is thankfully pretty empty. The dude working today is her regular guy. He's got a potbelly almost bursting out of his button down and a gold chain he's always playing with while he watches drag racing or _Cops _on the T.V. mounted on the wall. Sometimes he'll pop a handful of salted peanuts in his mouth, and she'll try not to look at his gross, hairy, older-man knuckles. She always ends up eying them anyway. But, without this dude and his non-carding mitts, she'd have way less fun weekends.

She sets a bottle of Jose Cuervo on the counter and from the way she's leaning, basically her boobs too.

"Hola," he says. Then he's speaking Spanish to her chest with a wide grin. And it doesn't really bother her because her bra is probably more fluent than she is; it _is_ made in Mexico.

Alex buys three packs of Parliaments along with the tequila, and kind of cradles the bottle in a nest of t-shirts near the bottom of her messenger bag. She doesn't want the neck sticking out because her final destination has a high chance of having a crap-ton of kids there. Honestly, she'd rather just be in the movie _Final Destination _and like die in some hilariously blood-soaked way than talk to T.J. Taylor.

She has to take two different trains to reach the roller rink. The place is crawling with little people, and she is seriously questioning why she's such an amazing person today, and how beast "Alex Russo: Freaking Saint" would look engraved on a gold pimp cup. It's what she tries to focus on when she sees T.J. flapping around in his chicken suit and neon orange skates.

She waves him over to the side of the rink. "Hey, when do you get your break?"

His voice is muffled in the chicken getup, but she's positive he says, "I'll show you a break."

Sheesh, the kid's still doing that?

"Seriously, T.J., when are you off? I need to ask you something…in private." She phrases this sentence totally on purpose because she's sure when T.J. hears a girl ask to do anything with him in private, he's all over it like Max on a bag of jelly beans.

He looks at the silver glittered music note clock on the wall, and lets her know he's got about twenty minutes before he can take his lunch, and to meet her in the alley by that Chinese place where the baseball team all got lice that one time.

She hits the bathroom, and spends the rest of the time waiting in line to play Street Fighter. Eventually she gives up and walks outside to a dumpster that reeks of wanton, cabbage, and questionable meat. T.J.'s skating his way out of the back exit door a few seconds later, now carrying his chicken head.

"Well, if it isn't Alex Russo, here to finally ask the hottest wizard she knows on a date. By the way, you look absolutely stunning."

"Yellow is a…nice color on you." She runs a frustrated hand through her hair. "Anyway, I remembered you told me you have a copy of that manual that's like the urban dictionary of spell books. And, I wanted to know if you could like do one of the spells for me."

He's grinning from her half-ass compliment, fixing his awkwardly curly, matted down hair. "What happened to your copy?"

"Justin found it, and tossed it in the fireplace like a total Nazi."

"I hate that guy! He called me a fake magician!" He makes a fist, which doesn't look at all threating with feathered hands.

"Oh man, such a jerk," she says flatly. "So, the spell?"

"I'll show you a spell."

She starts to tell him to shut up, pauses. "You know, that one actually made sense."

He crosses his arms with a smile. "It happens from time to time. What spell do you need me to do?"

"I kind of need to score some weed."

"How much?"

She lets out a deep breath. Even if she hates the sight of this guy's face, it's refreshing how chill he's acting. "I don't know, like enough to last like a week."

"That will be two hundred buckaroos."

"Seriously? That's like extorting or whatever." She digs her wallet out, frowning because it's so light it's like it just finished one of her mom's juice cleanses. "I'll give you sixty."

He snickers. "I am not negotiating. Two hundred or I do the Electric Slide right on out of your pretty little life."

"How about I just beat the weed out of you?"

"I don't think Justin would like to hear his baby sister is buying marijuana," he says.

"I don't think talking is really an option with your jaw wired shut." She's got a fist raised, hoping to look at least somewhat legit.

He smiles. "You even touch my gorgeous face, and I'll scream so loud my manager will call the cops like it's his job."

"Uh, it _would_ be his job." She can literally feel a headache creeping on her, and she really just wants this done already. "What if I give you the sixty and you can have free sandwiches at the substation for like the next month. It's June, so we're gonna get some Hawaiian BBQ sauce for the pulled pork pretty soon."

"Hmm." T.J. passes his chicken head back and forth between his hands. "Do you guys have any gluten free options?"

"Duh. All our meat is gluten free."

"Good try, Alex," he says. She's not sure why. He tucks his headpiece under his arm and smirks. "I have a better idea. You keep your money, and I'll give you the pot…if you agree to be my Facebook girlfriend for the rest of the summer."

She grimaces, hating so much that she's even considering. "What does that even mean?"

"You have to change your relationship status to "in a relationship" with me, we need to take at least one couple-y photo of us together, and I get to be the one who breaks up with you, in the halls at school, when I loudly announce to everyone that you were too clingy."

She wonders just how loud he can scream. "Is that everything?"

"No," he says, moving closer. "I want to make out, right now."

He really needs to be standing farther away because she might hurl.

He takes another step towards her. "Do you want the stuff or not?"

She groans. "Fine."

His face brightens like the creepiest elf in the world. "For real?"

Alex thinks she should probably take this opportunity to bail. She can go find some other extremely hot meth-head with a heart of gold who has his own damn stash of weed. Though he probably wouldn't be funny or immature in a way she finds comforting on a weird level or be as completely and utterly amazing as Jesse. She really does like him. Crap.

She shuts her eyes tight, and waves him forward. "Just do it."

He actually physically tilts her face to the side before he mashes his chapped lips against hers, and she can feel something that tastes like Cheetos push into her mouth. It's his tongue and it's very much touching her tongue in sluggish, too-much licks. This is almost so much to handle that she misses the felt wing sliding down her shirt until it's handling _her_. He clearly has never gotten this far before because he squeezes too hard like her bra is a freaking Nerf football or something. The other wing is on her neck when she hears a mechanical "ting." It goes off a couple more times before he pulls away.

She aggressively wipes her mouth over and over while he checks the beeper on his hip. _Oh god_, she just kissed a guy who still owns a beeper…and it was _T.J._

His face is fairly red and he looks grossly satisfied with himself. "I guess that was sufficient. Now, you wanted coke, right?"

"No!" she says. Who is this guy? "I said I needed weed to last me a week."

T.J. shrugs like it doesn't make a difference. He flexes his fingers a few times and, in a blue fog, a plastic bag of pot materializes along with a decent amount of rolling papers.

She's honestly impressed. "How did you do that?"

"What?" He eyes her questioningly. "I used hand magic. It takes way less time than reciting dumb spells. Also, for the under-the-shirt-action, I threw in a little extra magic. The stuff is completely parental-proof. It has no smell whatsoever."

She hides the stash in her purse, wondering why the phrase "hand magic" is bothering her so much. "I had a quiz today!"

T.J. rolls his sleeve up to look at his watch. "Well, I have a meatball Hot Pocket waiting for me. Hold still, and smile." He pulls his cellphone from a vague area she doesn't want to question and snaps a picture of them with his arm around her shoulder.

He yells "profile worthy" as he shuffles back inside.

She shudders violently, kicks the dumpster, and spits a few times. Taking in a large amount of air, she walks back to the street and hopes she's earned enough good-freaking-karma to not get grounded for missing her quiz. Yeah, right.


	7. Chapter 7

Alex storms up the loft's spiral staircase as she aggressively eats the melted end of a Milky Way Bar. She was so focused on her role as Patron Saint of Jesse Pinkman that she didn't realize she hadn't stopped to eat until she was a block away, and her only option was newspaper stand candy. And, this is a perfect example of why being a good person is bad for your health.

She sucks the last of the chocolate from her fingertip and flings open her bedroom door. Justin's perched on the edge of her bed, jotting something down on a legal pad. Jesse is standing with his head in his hands.

"But, on an average day, what specifically does he do during down time in the super lab?" Justin stops writing. "Is he grumpy and complaining or completely silent? How many mugs of coffee do you think he primarily consumes?"

Alex dramatically drops her purse on the floor with a loud thud. "Guess who got grounded for two weeks, and according to dad, is on a downward path that can only lead to prison?"

She's expecting something sarcastic or maybe even a chuckle, not a close-up of the front of Jesse's jacket. His arms are around her lower back and she's like a foot in the air when she fully understands Jesse's hugging the shit out of her like they're in some sort of rom-com airport hug.

"Yo, your brother is a total dick," Jesse says. "Like never leave ever again."

Her face is about shoulder-level, and he's all kinds of warm. It's taking everything in her to not slide her fingers in his hair and to ignore how her skirt is hiked up just enough to have her crotch crushed against him enough to practically get pregnant, and it's scary embarrassing how her brain is telling her stupid junk like they're even. No, she is determined to be mad at him.

"Put me down." She definitely just sounded like a five-year-old being pulled away from the bike section at Target, and she wants to die.

Once her boots meet carpet again, she storms as far away from him as possible. Okay, so she's still apparently going with the whole kid-in-Target kind of pouting-angry. Her room's isn't too big, so she has to stop her huffed marching once she gets to the wall by her closet. She leans back against it, and kicks her shoes off, chucking them to the empty corner of her room.

"Someone is in a bad mood," Justin says. "Is it because you flaked on another quiz, or are you and T.J. not working out?"

She covers her face. "How do you know even know about that already?"

"Well, I personally haven't been online all day with the quiz and…."

"And not shutting the fuck up. This asshole has been asking me weird, personal shit about Mr. White for like hours," Jesse says. He's sitting on her desk, looking sulky, glaring at Justin in a way that makes Alex proud. "Like how the hell am I supposed to know how much coffee Mr. White drinks in a day? Shit."

"There's just so much to ask about all the minute by minute details we don't see. You can't blame a guy for simple, completely normal curiosity about a complex, and interesting character." Justin brushes something from his notepad. "Anyway, I just got a text from Zeke saying he saw on Facebook that you are officially in a relationship with T.J. Taylor."

Alex is having a weirdly hard time thinking of an explanation about T.J. that doesn't involve T.J.'s hands under her top or illegal drugs. Really, she's had more than her share of smug, nerdy wizards already. So, kicking him out sounds pretty solid.

She drags Justin to his feet, shoves him to the door, and manages to come up with a lame excuse. "T.J. is blackmailing me because he's still pissed that you called him a fake magician."

She pushes him past the threshold. "Go be a loser somewhere else."

It's nice to slam the door. But, she still feels like her skin is crawling with the stink of sour Chinese food and gross sixteen-year-old boy breath. She grabs the first crumpled up ball of pajamas she finds in her dresser, and glares at Jesse. "All your stuff is in my bag. I'm going to take a shower because this day was the shit show of all shit shows, like a middle school performance of _Annie_ level shit show."

He looks genuinely concerned, and a little confused, but she doesn't have time for it. All she has time for is more slammed doors, tearing her clothes off in the bathroom, and stepping into a scalding spray of water. She even brings her toothbrush with like a gluttonous glob of Crest in with her to speed everything along.

She's scraping the bristles against the back of her tongue when she hears a raspy "Yo, don't freak out, it's me," and she almost straight-up deep throats the thing. Gagging a little, she places her toothbrush on the toiletry shelf and snatches up her loofa.

While her stomach is bubbling with delirious, acidy excitement, she also finds it depressing as anything that _this _is how she's managed to get naked in front of him. And that's not even counting her green and blue cock-block of a shower curtain.

She runs the loofa over her neck and collarbone like she's sanding down a woodshop project. Well, she only went to that class like four times, so she could be way off. "If Justin is bothering you again, just beat the crap out of him. He can't use his wand, so he's like fair game now."

"Son of a bitch. Why didn't I think of that?" He's silent for a minute. "Yo, what happened today?"

"Oh, you know, stopped at a couple stores, walked blisters into my toes because the trains were being jerks, and was sexually assaulted between a family-friendly Chinese restaurant and a skating rink."

"Are you fucking serious? You alright? You…." He's like stuttering things that aren't words. "Yo, I'm n-not trying to tell you what to like do you with your own body and shit. But, I've watched a fuck-ton of Law and Order: SVU, and they always t-tell the girl not to shower after. You know, so there's still evidence."

Alex has to stop shaving her legs so she can dry heave. "Gross! I didn't mean it like_ that_! The guy who got me your weed is this douchebag wizard who wanted to charge me two hundred bucks. I didn't have the money. So, now I'm his Facebook girlfriend until we get back to school when he'll breakup with me in front of everyone like some sort of seventh grade asshole. Also, the deal included him feeling me up and shoving his tongue in my mouth."

She hears a thud like he hit something, or maybe he just passed out from the sauna-like heat coming from her germ-killing, scorching water temperature.

"Alex, I'm so sorry. That's completely fucked up, and like if I had known shit like that was gonna happen, I wouldn't have asked. I don't want to sound ungrateful or some shit, but that was like unnecessary. Wait, I mean, like you just shouldn't have done it. Fuck!"

She waits until he's done making more pained noises and cussing under his breath to rinse out her shampoo. "That would have been cool to know _before _I let a giant chicken get to second base."

"The fuck?"

"T.J. works as the chicken mascot for the roller rink." She lets her conditioner soak, which she never does, but talking to him in the shower is weirdly entertaining.

"Yo, you can have as much of the weed as you want," he says.

Now, this is no fun at all. Alex can't understand how _that's _the way he's going to make up for this. She's so mad again she needs to say this to his face. It's like more dramatic and you know, shock value and all. She throws the curtain open, ready for whatever reaction she can get.

Alex gets a view of his back. She doesn't know if he was already turned around or he moved when he heard the metal rings slide. But, the second option is a big enough downer that she just shuts it. "I'm about to get out."

The door clicks open and close.

About five minutes later, she's in her room, toweling her hair dry. Her purse is in the same spot where she left it, like he hasn't touched it or anything, and she finds that annoying for some reason.

He's sitting back at her desk. "Is it cool if I shower?"

"Sure," she says. She pulls out the CVS bag, a package of boxers, and the pajama pants. Then she throws each at him one at a time.

"Yo, what the hell?" He catches the first bag, but the boxers fly by him, and the bottoms smack softly into his face. "I said I was sorry."

Alex tosses her damp towel on the floor and grabs her remote. She lies down chest-first on her bed, facing the T.V., and switches it to a re-run of _Friends_. "Just go take your shower."

She hears the rustling of him gathering his stuff before he walks between her and Phoebe singing "Smelly Cat." He's gone before the scene is over, and she blindly lobs the remote across the room. Throwing stuff is like her thing tonight. Her stupid emotions keep shifting from being so fed up with everything to really wanting to be fed up, but like thinking about Jesse. And then all the rage just keeps sifting through her fingers like the time she was seven and shattered Justin's Etch-a-Sketch just to watch it rain down sand like gritty wind at the beach. It's like Jesse has some sort of bizarre super power that's stronger than her usually excellent ability to hold a grudge. Or maybe her blood sugar is just low.

Dinner is leftover enchiladas. No one questions her when she takes her plate to her room because she's supposedly pouting for being grounded.

She sets the plate down on her bed, settles back on her belly, and lets the enchiladas cool off. Chandler and Joey are watching T.V. too, and she thinks how weird it would be if someone else were watching her on a television, like a screen within a screen within a screen.

She hears Jesse walk back in the room, haul her purse on the bed, and drop down. He's laughing.

Alex cranes her neck back to see him pulling on the top with the zombie design. She catches his eye, and he grins.

"Yo, these are some badass shirts." He shakes the skull one. "I straight-up have this exact one. Shit, it's like you're in my brain."

As usual, his smile is like more contagious than a head cold during finals. And, she sort of smiles too.

"Do you like cheese?" She nods to their dinner.

He grabs the plate, scooping up a huge bite. "What kind of fucked up person would I be if I didn't like cheese? Also, I'm really digging these pants."

"I'm shocked," she says.

Jesse rolls his eyes, rummaging around until he pulls out the bag of weed and papers. He opens the seal and sniffs.

"It's not going to smell like anything. He did something, you know, magic something, to kill the odor or whatever."

"Hell, yeah!" he says. His expression softens a little. "He's still a dick though."

"Not gonna argue with you." She thrums her fingers against the back of her forearm. "You want to try it out?"

Jesse doesn't answer, just locks the door. It doesn't take long for him to have the thing rolled and lit before he hands it over.

She takes a few light puffs as he continues to devour the enchiladas.

He looks up. "Am I hogging the shit out of this?"

"I'm good." Her stomach groans like on cue or something, and it's super annoying.

"Sure. You just have like a tauntaun in there."

"What the heck is that?"

Jesse smiles sheepishly. "Never mind. It's stupid."

She inhales deeper, the smoke like swirling at the back of her throat until she coughs. "Is it kind of like a Hobbit?"

He laughs, and plucks the joint from her fingers. "Nah, not even close. It's just this like big, hairy animal from Star Wars, and it makes weird-ass noises. Now, eat some of this, bitch."

Before she can sit up or move at all, Jesse extends a forkful of food. He twirls it around in front of her eyes, and she's not sure if he's trying to trip her out or act like he's feeding a baby.

Alex latches both hands around his wrist, and takes the fork into her mouth. Swallowing, she sketches an outline of his scorpion tattoo with her fingertip. "What's your favorite movie?"

He slowly moves his arm back to bring her another bite, and she eats it the same way, hands on him. "I can't pick _one_. But, like Pulp Fiction is pretty dope."

She opens her mouth to agree, but he has more food. And, he actually slides it slowly between her lips in a way that's so obscene and amazing that she knows she's hallucinating the hinting of things she's wanted to do from the beginning when he popped into the lair, hammered drunk and hot as hell in his hoodie. She giggles. "I've never smoked sober before."

"Cross-buzz is like totally different than just weed," he says. He offers her another cheesy glob.

She shakes her head because she's super likely to do something stupid and porn-ish like overenthusiastically lick the fork or "miss" and slip one of his fingers in her mouth. "Want to watch Pulp Fiction?"

"Obviously," he says, taking another hit.

She puts the DVD in, turns the light off, and sits with her back against the headboard. They pass the joint back and forth, until it's tiny and he stubs it out. He lies back with his head on the pillow by her waist.

Alex pokes the front section of his hair, playing with the spiky fluff. She's working a good buzz, like the kind where she wants to touch everything and it doesn't matter what.

He laughs, but closes his eyes, almost like he likes it. She softly runs her nails up his forehead, and he makes a nice humming sound.

"What's like some cool wizard shit you've done? Or is that like secret shit you can't tell me?"

"Um, well," Alex says. She's trying to narrow down a sixteen year history of stuff like turning Max into a dog, bringing a cab to life, and chatting up Mother Nature, which isn't insanely easy when she's kind of high and stroking Jesse's head and they're both totally in her bed. "I've gone over Shea Stadium on a flying carpet, poked a leprechaun with a stick, accidentally made a genie turn Justin invisible, kind of briefly charmed my parents via casserole into letting me do magic whenever I wanted, and there was also this one time I helped save Justin's powers from this evil teacher at Wiz Tech."

Jesse squints up at her. "What's Wiz Tech?"

"It's this stupid school my parents send us for part of the summer to like improve our magic. We have to like wear these robes and listen to professors, and the only way to talk to anyone in the outside world is through dumb carrier pigeons. It's really lame."

Jesse's eyes are wide open now, and he's smiling. "Shit, that sounds like Hogwarts. Do you guys play wizard-y games like quidditch?"

Alex laughs, because the idea of Justin trying to balance on a broom darting around in the air is beyond hilarious. The fingers of both of her hands are fully in Jesse's hair, trailing across his scalp in a way that makes him sigh when she gets close to the back of his neck. It's kind of nice having this effect on him. Oh right, he asked her a question. "There's this game called Twelve Ball that's basically Ping-Pong with more balls and faster, but just as boring to watch. We did get to eat in like this huge dining hall room with lots of long wooden tables like in _Harry Potter_."

"Was there butterbeer?"

"Nope," she says. "Other than visiting Volcano Land, the best part of going to Wiz Tech was getting a break from being in this apartment all the time."

She's not exactly sure why she asks, but it comes out anyway. "Do you miss being home?"

Just for the hell of it, she starts to gently press the tips of her fingers deeper into his hair, moving her hands around in a kind of attempt at a massage.

Jesse's eyes shut again as he tilts his chin up, pushing his head closer to her. "Shit, no…bitch."

It's like he tagged on that last part just for her and her lip curls up on one side. "You know how you asked why Justin and I got kind of excited when you called us bitches, but then like we never said anything?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it's basically your catchphrase on the show or like your signature word or whatever."

He chuckles. "Great, I'm Steve Urkel."

She snickers, and the best part of the movie is on when Uma Thurman's nose is bleeding a hell-a-ton and they have to give her that awesomely huge shot.

It isn't until right before the Pop-Tart scene that she notices she's still on auto-pilot head rub mode, and he's knocked out. She's pretty tired, and while it would take the least amount of energy on her part to just sleep here next to him, maybe get in a little cuddling action, it feels weird doing that with him already asleep.

So, she covers him with her blank, gets rid of all weed-related evidence from the open, and crawls onto the cot. She jimmies herself back into the sleeping bag just as Bruce Willis ices John Travolta like a total champ.


	8. Chapter 8

She wakes up early again. Again, as in after waking up about a million times during the night with that annoying knot in her neck and being super uncomfortable on the floor. So, it's like somewhere in that delivery-trucks-pulling-into-markets and dumb-people-going-to-the-gym time. It's a stupid part of the day because even the sun's barely got it's shit together and it's still a little dark out. She stares at the _Pulp Fiction _DVD menu for a good while before she decides she needs to get the hell out of there.

Alex has never been grounded and _not _snuck out. Doing it feels very right, especially after all her Good Samaritan stuff from the day before. Lenny's has the best bagels, and Jesse can't leave New York without having one. This makes complete sense to her on her entire twenty minute roundtrip. It isn't until she's hunched behind the sofa, strategically crawling on her hands and knees with a paper bag in her mouth that she realizes her prison break was used on a frigging bagel run. She's horrified.

It's like she wants to yell at herself for being so lame and disgustingly helpful, but her parents are in the kitchen, fighting about the best way to slice salami. She shuffles to the farther armrest when she hears their footsteps get a little closer. Luckily, they decide to walk to the sub shop through the lair, still yelling things about cold cuts. When the door closes, she sighs around the rolled up paper in her mouth and stands.

"Hey, Alex." Max is sitting at the dining room table, staring at an upside down box of Cream of Wheat. "Aren't you grounded?"

She knows her best bet with Max is to avoid and redirect, because his attention span darts around like a pocket elf post-chocolate binge. "Max, did you know Kendal's Kreamery is having a free ice cream cone day? Crazy, right? What are you up to?"

"Justin lied." He holds the box farther from his face with a frown. "He said if I ate this healthy stuff, I'd get the free yo-yo. But, nowhere on this box is there a free yo-yo. Believe me, I've seen more than my fair share of yo-yos, and not one of them looked like an old man or a bowl of mushy cream."

"Aww, that's too bad. You should yell at Justin or whatever. Okay, talk to you later." She moves towards the stairs as her bag sways against her jean shorts with a loud crinkle.

"Wait a second. What's in that Lenny's bag?" He grins. "Did you get bagels?"

She dismissively waves him off. "No. This is just trash."

"Trash that smells like cinnamon sugar bagels and cream cheese? Alex, I may have gotten a D in Math…and English, but I know what bagels smell like." He gapes, standing to point at Alex. "And Lenny's is not in our apartment, which means you had to walk outside. And, that is the opposite of being grounded!"

He huffs, looking slightly out of breath, and marches up to her. "You and Justin are always getting stuff from each other, like blue-mailing each other, and I never have any idea what's going on. I mean, I've been pretty busy recently with a couple of secret projects that may or may not include a hot glue gun and dad's old gym shorts from college. But, uh, what was I talking about?"

"Gym shorts," she says, hopping up the stairs. The bag smacks against the railing with a crisp crunch. And, _my dear god_, what is this paper made out of?

"No, I want one of your bagels. If you don't give me one, I'm gonna tell Mom and Dad that you left the loft."

Alex turns to him, gritting her teeth. "Are you flipping serious?"

"I'm as serious as the documentaries I fall asleep through during history class. I watched like five whole minutes of guys in white wigs crossing a river, and they didn't smile once," he says. He pats his stomach with a determined expression. "If I don't have some cinnamon goodness in here soon, I am so going to Mom and Dad."

Alex is positive that if she'd gotten her regular eleven hours of sleep, she could get around this like nobody's business. But, she's tired as hell, and her wand is all the way up in her room. "Alright, you can have one."

He holds out his hand with a satisfied smirk that reminds Alex too much of Justin.

She gives him the smaller, slightly browner bagel and a packet of cream cheese, and runs upstairs before he can steal the other one.

Back in her room, away from the bagel-thief, Jesse is still asleep like a normal person. He's on his left side facing the window, hair sticking up, serene.

All she wants to do is wake him up. Seriously though, she's been up for almost two hours, and the only people she's talked to are Max and the cross-eyed lady at Lenny's.

Alex slides out of her tennis shoes and sits crossed legged on the empty spot next to him. She considers poking him with something, but she doesn't have any stick-like objects readily available. Her wand is on her desk, but that requires walking. Maybe she could just breathe on this insanely loud, crackling bag. Or she could like be nice about it or whatever, like when Harper wakes her up by rubbing circles on Alex's back when she drifts off on the train.

She lets her hand hover above him for a second before she trails her fingers through his hair. It takes him a minute or so to become conscious again. He makes this sort of yummy sounding humming noise, which kind of melts her insides like cream cheese on a bagel. As he flips onto his back, she does one more run through his hair and pulls away to open the bag.

"'Sup," she says.

He squints, propping himself up on an elbow. "Did you go out?"

"Yeah. There's this awesome bakery close by that has the best bagels. So, I snuck out and bought some." She takes out his bagel from the bag along with a plastic knife and silver Philadelphia packet. "It's Cinnamon Sugar. And, it's my favorite because, unlike most cinnamon bagels, it doesn't come with gross grape corpses inside. Do you want cream cheese?"

Jesse nods, still squinting. "What are grape corpses?"

"Oh, that's what I call raisins. Because they've had all that's cool about them drained from their bodies and they're just left like lifeless and nasty in graves of granola and bagels and toast." She layers cream cheese on both sides before sandwiching the halves and handing it to him.

He takes a big bite. "Yo, that's like the best description of a raisin I've ever heard. This bagel is the bomb. Where's yours?"

"I ate it on the walk back," she says. She even clenches her stomach muscles so it doesn't make more strange _Star Wars_ sounds. But,_ jeez_, the thing looks so delicious. She's able to hold out until he's more than halfway done when it gurgles. "I have heart burn."

He rolls his eyes. "What _really_ happened to yours?"

"Max caught me walking back into the loft, and I gave him mine so he wouldn't rat me out."

"Then take the rest, freak." He smiles, placing it in her hand.

She demolishes the thing, just barely self-conscious about how he's laughing at her.

Jesse sits up straighter. "Shit, I had breakfast in bed two days in a row. Are you like a breakfast fairy?"

Alex wrinkles her nose. "Fairies are such prissy little jerks who go around talking about how much better they are than everyone else, and how good they look in glitter."

"You mean like fairies with wings are like homos?"

She smacks his arm. "Wow, Jesse, way to be all backwards and stuff. Not all gay people are the same. That's like saying all wizards are the same. Dude, it's 2010, get a grip."

Jesse seems like he wants to defend himself right until she's done talking. Then his mouth drops open. "Yo, it's 2010?"

"Yep. It has been for like six months." She licks a dab of cream cheese from her thumb. "Dude, are you still high?"

"No. It's just like back when I was, you know, in my world and shit, it was fucking 2009. I've been in the future for four days, and I didn't know it. Yo, what have I missed?"

"You mean like current events and politics and junk?" she says. When he nods, she chuckles. "Psh, I don't read the news. Ask me something specific, and like maybe I can answer."

He shrugs. "Yeah, I guess I don't really pay attention either. Yo, did that new Freddie Kruger movie come out yet?"

"Yes! And it was so bad that it was good! Oh my gosh, you haven't seen _Saw VI _or _Shutter Island _or _The Crazies_!" She jumps up to grab her laptop from her desk. "I'm going to stream the crap out these."

Alex flops down next to him. She finds the revamped _Nightmare on Elm Street _on the site she normally uses and pulls her blanket up to her waist to rest the laptop on. Adjusting the screen, she wedges a pillow behind her back. He moves around some before he's leaning a little on her arm as she starts the movie.

They stay like that for an awesome ninety-five minutes, laughing and cringing and so close that all she can smell is cinnamon sugar and Mountain Breeze body wash.

Because she adamantly insists, they watch _Shutter Island _andthe newest _Saw _before she lets him browse the site. He's taking a long time deciding between _Fast & Furious _and _Jennifer's Body_. She's silently pulling for the second because it involves way less car chases and a lot more cannibalism. Sleeping wouldn't be a bad idea either. She closes her eyes, and just barely rests her cheek on his shoulder, listening to his fingers on the touchpad.

"Shit, that's me," he says.

Her eyes pop open, really hoping he didn't jump over to IMDb, and she now has to explain how there's some other guy who looks just like him named Aaron. She's not like a therapist or anything, but that could seriously screw with your mind. Thankfully, he's hasn't left the website or discovered _Bad Girls From Valley High,_ because she'd have no idea where to start with that one.

He's staring at a still of him hushing Walt after he recognizes Jesse during the meth lab bust from the pilot. The entire first season is available in all its illegal, pirated glory.

"Should I?" he says.

She shrugs, which is kind of weird when you're practically sitting on top of someone. It comes across more like nuzzling. But, he seems pretty occupied looking at what are basically twisted home videos of his life with really great production value.

"Sure. I haven't watched this one in a while."

He clicks the play button.

She kind of regrets it because she forgot this episode is chockfull of stuff Jesse's never experienced, like Walt finding out he has cancer or the recording he makes of himself when he thinks the cops are coming. Jesse's basically passed out with one of those safety masks on in the RV for most of the beginning while all the crap's going on around him. He watches himself through his fingers, muttering "shit" a lot.

Jesse doesn't say anything for a short period until Skyler starts to give Walt his "birthday present" hand job in bed. His entire face looks like it's trying to twist itself off his body, especially when Walt starts to really get into it, gripping the headboard and everything.

"Oh, _shit_," he says, sounding nauseous, scowling. He slaps the laptop shut and shoves it away. "Why the fuck would they show that shit? Why would someone want to see that? Why didn't you fucking warn me?"

"Hey, slow down," she says. She holds his arm, because he's seriously freaking out. "I just forgot. And really, that was pretty tame. At the end of this episode, Walt and Skyler…."

Jesse clamps his hand over her mouth. "No. I don't, in any world, want to hear about Mr. White and his wife in bed, alright?"

She nods.

He moves his hand to rub the back of his neck before snapping his face towards her. "Yo, do they show me doing…you know, dirty shit?"

This is getting into that might-need-to-see-a-shrink territory she was thinking about earlier, and she's considering just straight-up lying. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

His eyes widen. "I definitely, fucking do now."

"Okay," she says. She's not proud of it or anything, but she has these scenes memorized. "So, it implies you slept with the lady who lived next door to Emilio's meth lab. But, all we see is her in a bra, and you climbing out of her window, partially dressed. One time you have your pants down, and Wendy and you like, you know, start…before they cut away. It lasts like a second."

Alex sits up on her knees, not sure how mentioning Jane's name will go over. She plays with a decorative bead on her blanket.

"That it? And, don't bullshit me."

"There's also the time you go to a strip club with Skinny Pete, Badger, and Combo after Walt gives you the money to buy the RV. But, again, it's just chicks with their clothes off."

He seems to believe this. "You've never like seen me naked?"

"The show's on AMC, not HBO. Justin said it almost was on HBO. But, the network like passed or whatever." She forlornly pats his chest. "So, no. I sadly have never been able to view like the majestic 360 vista of Jesse Pinkman."

Jesse kind of freezes up until he's doing something that's like between a sigh and a cough. "This might sound weird, but I don't think I've ever heard anyone so disappointed about not seeing me naked or whatever."

"_Now _who's bullshitting?"

Alex smiles, splays her fingers across the front of his t-shirt, her palm drifting down. His eyes follow along as he licks his mouth. She gets to the hem before slipping underneath the baggy fabric, and he feels just as thin as she expected. But, it's hot because she's always been into slimmer guys.

She glides her hand over his skin in heavy caresses, and he hasn't stopped her or anything. He's just sitting there, lips slightly parted. She gets her fingers around the neckline and tugs it to about halfway down his snake tattoo. Nothing in his face has changed. So, she dips forward and kisses the ink. This is literally the junk dreams are made of, and she can't help but like honor her dream-self by softly licking over the design. He shudders.

Alex has another hand that's not doing jack shit. It only makes sense to slide it between his legs. She's sucking openmouthed kisses along his collarbone when she feels him take in a breath. Her hand wanders up the inseam, and _oh god_, he is for sure into this. She palms him, already semi-hard, through his sweatpants.

He squirms a little, which she takes as encouragement as she brings her hand up to wedges her nails past the elastic waistband.

"Alex." He says her name all throaty and coarse, his voice like warm stubble. Since she's still got five fingers in his shirt, she teases a nipple between two of them to see if he'll say it again. He jerks into her with a strained whimper, and Alex rewards him with the gentle scrape of her teeth across his Adam's apple.

His hand drops to her shoulder, and it almost feels like he's pushing her back. "Yo, I, I don't know if, if we…."

She's pretty sure he's just a little nervous, because she's a wizard. Yeah, that's definitely it. It would be like if one of the X-Men mutants wanted to hook-up with her, and she'd be sort of freaked about Cyclops' laser eyes, but also totally turned on. Jesse just needs to chill.

Alex kisses his jawline, shushing him against his skin. "It's okay. I swear, it's okay."

She starts to drag her fingers down his pelvic bone, but he's wiggling around a ton.

She's shoved away so fast that she doesn't even register what happened until he swings his legs off the side of the bed with his shoulders rigid, breathing hard. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Alex smacks the bed. She's pissed and confused, and her self-esteem has basically been grounded down into tiny snort-able pieces. "I don't know what you want me to say. You seemed into it. Why are you being like this?"

He's got his elbows on his knees, face in his hands, voice softer. "You were about to shove your hand down my pants."

She has to grab a pillow and sink in all ten nails because she feels like she's ninety percent ready to strangle him. "Duh, but only because it felt like you liked what I was doing. And when I say 'felt,' I'm like being totally literal, because, well, I don't know. You either have some weird like health condition or you're carrying around a very warm roll of Mentos in your boxers."

Jesse lets out a dry chuckle.

Alex plops the pillow down in her lap, smoothing out the wrinkles. This has to be _the _most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to her before. And, she's been in public drenched in chocolate sauce on a first date, so her humiliation bar is pretty damn high.

She holds the pillow closer to her chest. "I guess I'll try to keep my disgusting hands to myself."

He groans. "Yo, I don't think you're disgusting."

"Then what? You feel like you're gonna like corrupt me? Because I am _so_ passed that."

"No, it's just…."

Her door slowly wedges open, and it's done so cautiously that Alex assumes this is Justin.

"Hey, Alex. Hey, Alex's friend," Max says. He looks completely unfazed, and dressed weirdly nice in a short sleeve button down with dark jeans. "Mom wanted me to tell you we're going out to Aqua for an early dinner because that's the only time we could get a reservation. And, you're not invited."

Alex narrows her eyes, trying to decide what's weirder: Max being super casual about Jesse, or the details of this totally rude dinner plan announcement. Jesse has flipped around, staring, and Alex points to him. "Are you not at all bothered by a random guy being in my bedroom?"

He holds his hands up. "Hey, I might be an idiot, but I'm not a prune. You can do whatever you want with whoever you want. Plus, I knew they're had to be two people in here since you had two bagels. Why else would you have an extra bagel?"

She's not even going to try. "So, why is the entire family ditching me to go to _my _favorite seafood restaurant?"

"Come on, Alex," he says, like _she's_ the idiot. "Mom and Dad are doing this as extra punishment. You've missed at least five wizard quizzes this year. Hey!" He looks at Jesse. "Aren't you that guy Alex has a crush on from the show about science and selling blue antihistamines and burning teddy bears?"

"No, Max. That would be ridiculous. He's just a friend I met…at the Freedom Tunnel. Yeah, he's an artist. He draws super heroes like Kanga-man, and makes sweet wood boxes and everything." She's pretty satisfied with this lie, enjoying it even more when she sees Jesse smile. And yeah, she guesses she did just compliment him too.

"Cool!" Max says. "Maybe he can make a new box for my dead lizard. He is really smelling up my gym bag, if you know what I mean. Well, see you guys later."

When the door shuts, Jesse sighs. "Dude's a lot different than Justin."

Alex stands, nails back in the sham of her throw pillow, and she flings it across the room. "I can't believe they're going to Aqua without me. My dad is the cheapest man in New York. He only takes me there for my birthday. How are they going on a random Wednesday evening? You know what? Screw them! We can have our own nice dinner. Yeah, we will!"

She bolts to the kitchen. They left pretty fast, so the place is empty, and she scans the room like she's going to hunt something down and rip it apart between her teeth. She settles for nearly gutting the refrigerator and scattering it's innards across the countertops. There's a ton of broccoli and chicken breasts and a brand new bottle of soy sauce. She gets a box of white rice from the pantry along with a can of water chestnuts, a skillet, and a pot.

Just as she adds the rice to her boiling water, she hears her phone ding with a text message. She lets it there, buzzing, as she lays out her peppers, garlic, and onions to start chopping. The stir-fry is maybe a little more than halfway done when she slips a pan of break-apart caramel chunk cookies in the oven. It's raining outside pretty hard, and she pulls back the curtain more to see the storm turn the sidewalks a darker color.

It's insane how exhausted she is, and she thinks it might be why she just forcefully fondled Jesse, and why she's getting back at her parents by making homemade Chinese food.

She's ignored another two or three texts by the time she takes some plates down. Grabbing a couple of paper napkins, she hears someone yelling at the front door. Her family jumbles inside, soaking wet and bickering.

"Jerry, how many times do I have to tell you we need new cell phones before you listen?" Her mom is wiping water from her Coach purse, glaring.

"Our phones had nothing to do with Aqua losing our reservation, which I told you in the restaurant, and the cab, and out of the cab when the driver kicked us out," her dad says. He rips off his "going out" denim jacket. "Do you know how loud you have to shout for a cabbie to remove you from his cab?"

Max is obliviously playing with what looks like a dirty piece of rope, and Justin is shooting her a mystified look, not moving as his clothes drip on the carpet.

Alex's mom rips her heels off and bumps into Justin. She looks up, and Alex doesn't really know what to say with a spatula in her hand and the hot food she prepared behind her back.

"Oh, mija! You _cooked_ us dinner! This looks fantastic! Everyone, look at this," she says, waving them forward.

Her dad pats Max on the back who is still twirling his gross, new toy around. "Pay attention, your sister may have done something nice."

In seconds, the four of them are crowded around the kitchen island, eyeing her meal with different varieties of surprise and fear.

Max slings his rope over his shoulder. "What did you put in it?"

Her Mom pops him on the head. "Max, I'm sure Alex didn't poison our food." She makes an apprehensive smile. "You didn't, right? Because really, I texted you to just preheat the oven so I could toss in a frozen lasagna or something. I wasn't expecting this."

"You're making cookies too?" Her dad has crept over to the oven, suspiciously sniffing the air. "Justin, go in the lair, and check to see if any books are open on magical gastrointestinal diseases."

"Whoa!" Alex says. She sets down her spatula. "I can promise everyone that there are no toxins, normal and/or charmed, in the stir-fry or the caramel chunk cookies."

Her dad grins. "Carmel chunk are my favorite!" He pulls her in for a rain-drenched embrace. "I never thought I'd see the day that my one and only daughter would prepare a meal for her family. You weren't even asked. Alex, you are no longer grounded."

"What?" Justin has peeled his blazer and tie off, draping them neatly over the back of one of the barstools. "You're letting her off just like _that_. It's stir-fry, Dad, not a soufflé."

He's still hugging her, and Alex's shirt is officially not dry anymore. "Justin, stop being such a food snob, and get some glasses out. I say we all change clothes. Then we come back and enjoy."

Her mom gives Alex a thumbs-up as they head up stairs. Max takes a seat while Justin sets the table.

Justin gathers his clothes and whispers, "Looks like you're not going to be eating with your boyfriend tonight."

Alex seriously doesn't think that needs any sort of response. So, she just turns back to the stove. Everyone is back in less than five minutes, and she sits there, picking at her food, listening to her mom gloat on and on about how well she cooked the chicken. The whole ordeal is the worst, like some syrupy sweet family dinner that's so wholesome she wouldn't be surprised if Hallmark cards started sprouting from the bell peppers.

As her parents do the dishes, she says her goodnights and wraps up three cookies in a napkin.

Once she's in her room, she slumps back against the door, closing her eyes. "I think I'm having a slow-motion mental breakdown." She hears movement on the mattress, and then a hand's on her shoulder.

"Yo, what's wrong? You were gone for like an hour, and I heard your family arguing and shit. Did they like ground you again?" He's got a joint in his other hand.

"Their dinner reservation crapped out or something. So, they came back and like ate all the food I made for us. And, they were so thrilled about it that my dad has ungrounded me, which I should be happy about. But, I've _never_ been ungrounded. It feels like all weird…and dirty," she says.

She grabs the joint from him and puffs. She's taking another drag as she hands him the cookies. And he's munching on one as she pulls the stuff into her lugs so hard the entire back of her mouth starts to taste like what she'd imagine a lawn mower tastes like.

"Yo," she says, coughing. "We're going out tonight."


	9. Chapter 9

Jesse has the sleeves of his military jacket rolled up to his elbows, his arms raised as he gestures to the side entrance of the warehouse. "This is gonna be awkward as shit."

He's been saying stuff like this ever since they were back in her room when Alex read out that text from a girl in her Civics and Economics class saying some guys from Tribeca Prep were putting on an impromptu concert. Even with weed and warm cookies, Jesse said there was no way in hell he was going, which was pretty annoying. But, they had a lot of time to kill before the thing started anyway. So, she let him get all relaxed and baked, watching Uma Thurman's character rip that chick's eye out in _Kill Bill: Vol. 2 _when she obscenely leaned way into his personal space, chest against his arm. Grinning, she reminded him that if she left him in her room, Justin might find him alone. That would probably mean a lame, endless string of more fanboy Walter White questions, or worse, an in-depth lecture on all the chemistry junk the show gets wrong. Jesse, not so shockingly, said he'd go or whatever.

Alex texted her friend back, and got a response with the address and to BYOS (Bring Your Own Shit). They still had an hour and a half, which she used to get ready in a hurry and then do a lot of pre-game tequila shots with Jesse, who liked his with lime, but no salt. She crammed several joints and their liquor in her purse before they snuck out of the apartment. Or really they just walked out, because everyone was already asleep. And, she's honestly surprised Jesse's still complaining, because from the amount of rib bone she'd felt from under his shirt during her grope-fest, his alcohol tolerance can't be _that _high.

"Jesse, calm your tits. Just because I was told about the concert from someone in high school, and the band goes to my high school, doesn't mean _everyone _here is going to be in high school."

He runs his tongue over his teeth, shifting his jaw back and forth. "Yo, listen to yourself. There's gonna be a fuck-ton of high school kids here. This is lame. It's like Badger's-idea-for-a-Friday-night lame. Let's bounce."

"It won't be that bad. I've heard the band is like alt, emo, thrash metal and like-" Alex stops, struggling to light the joint that's already in her mouth. She can't get his stupid lighter to work, and she's thinking maybe doing four shots in twenty minutes wasn't a great idea. "If all else, maybe you can get laid."

Jesse snatches the lighter, and starts the tiny fire in one smooth motion. He holds it out for her. "I didn't need to leave your room for that."

"Screw you." She huffs smoke in his face. "What makes you think that like I wasn't just going to give you a hand job?"

He shoves the lighter in his back pocket, mouth wide in frustration. "Oh, maybe because you're like always fucking looking at me like you want to unhinge your jaw and like blow my whole body at once."

"That's super disturbing," she says. She smiles and smacks him on the arm. "Kudos, dude. Now, let's go!"

She strolls right in, and the place is insanely loud. There's at least seventy other people under the flickering industrial fluorescent lighting, spread out around some sort of makeshift stage. The ceilings are high since it's a warehouse, and a lot of the windows are cracked or busted, because it's abandoned. And even though she's been to a few other garage band concerts here, she's always been too drunk to ask things like why are we partying in a place that smells like gasoline and has bats in that one corner?

Alex recognizes the lead singer, or screamer, from her Bio class. She's pretty sure the other guys go to a different school.

She finds the group of girls she eats with during the lunch period she doesn't have with Harper, and Jesse follows her from a distance, like he's some sort of sullen bodyguard. Her friends are passing around a fifth of 99 Bananas, which they share for some of her pot. Jennifer, the one with the new nose ring, is babbling about the scream-o guy from Alex's Bio class, and how she's going to do him or something. Molly asks if anyone's seen Todd or Amanda walking around. Apparently, no one has, and Molly walks off, yelling something that sounds like "assholes."

About four or five songs are played when Katie asks if Alex brought T.J. Taylor. No amount of alcohol could like desensitize her from that name, and it takes every small sober particle of her left not to grimace. Luckily, she spots someone very un-cringe worthy playing flip cup with a couple of guys.

Alex drifts away from the circle, tapping Stevie on the shoulder.

She turns, red Solo cup in each hand, grinning when she sees Alex. "Holy Shit! Dude, I haven't seen you in like three weeks. What's up?"

Stevie hugs her, semi-awkwardly with her hands full. But, Alex only gets a _little bit_ of beer on the back of her tank top, so it's cool.

"Uh, nothing really. I got grounded for missing my hand magic quiz, and my wizard report car blew as usual, and I'm eighty dollars farther away from finally buying my own Mustang. What's up with you?"

"Shit, that sucks," she says. She takes a sip of her drink, and hands the other to Alex. "I actually just got back from the Caribbean. My dad's brother works at this cool little market that sells like bracelets and shit. So, I went with my parents, and we stayed for about a week."

"Totally jealous," Alex says. "Did you meet any hot guys?"

She laughs, flipping a bright blue braid barely grazing her shoulder that Alex hadn't noticed yet. "The dude who dreaded my hair was pretty cute, but also very gay. Other than him, there were nada hotties. Though, it looks like you found one."

Alex does a not-so-subtle over-the-shoulder glance to see Jesse standing about fifteen feet away, watching her with an angry, almost pouting expression. She turns back to Stevie, talking around the rim of her cup filled with lukewarm Bud Light. "No idea who that dude is."

"Is that so?" Stevie smirks. "So, you're sayin' I didn't see you guys walk in together? Or that I know you're the only other wizard here besides me, and that the five foot eight guy with killer blue eyes and way too big jeans over there is most definitely Jesse-Breaking-Bad-Pinkman? Alex, don't insult me."

She winces. "Ooh, didn't know you were a fan. And, yeah, Jesse is with me."

"I am a _very_ big fan," Stevie says, wiggling her eyebrows. She nods at Jesse, and he gives her a kind of delayed, hesitant three-fingered wave. "When you say 'Jesse is with me,' how 'with me' are we talking? Like you guys are friends in a hang out kind of way or like you've had his dick in your mouth?"

"It's pretty much the first one," she says.

"What do you mean? It's-" Stevie pauses to watch the guys she was playing flip cup with pass by, one of them in an orange flannel shirt telling her they'll be back. She turns to Alex. "It's one or the other."

"Well, we're friends, but that doesn't mean I haven't thought about, you know, putting his dick in my mouth. It's just…he's not interested." Alex translates Stevie's wigged out expression as total confusion, so she tries to explain. "Not like, in blow jobs in general, but like not interested in me. It's mega-frustrating. He's been in my room for like three days, and I'm pretty close to exploding or something."

Stevie squints. "You've been with Jesse for three days, and you've gotten jack shit? Why don't you just, you know, use a spell? You could make him do anything."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because, you're I-always-get-my-way-and-leave-the-rest-crying-Alex-Russo," she says. "Plus, Jesse looks_ so_ hot when he cries. Shit, could you imagine him like underneath you, just like whining, and balling, and naked? He'd…"

"Dude, you're creeping me the hell out," Alex says. She hunches her shoulders and shakes her head rapidly in disgust. "I would never do something like that to Jesse. He's not just something to play with. Jesse's a real person…with his own free will and feelings and junk. And, he should be treated like, you know, right or whatever."

Stevie stares at Alex for a second before her face goes sour. "Wow, you like him. You _really _like him."

"And, you got that from what?" Alex frowns.

"Let's just say, I heard you say the phrase 'free will' and I puked in my mouth a little. Alex Russo uses magic when she wants, whenever she wants, on whoever she wants. This is the same chick who contemplated re-creating the movie _Heathers _with me at Tribeca Prep just because we were bored in Geography, with, you know, all the murder involved and everything. Now, it's like…." She leans towards Alex and takes in a dramatically deep breath. "You smell all desperate and mild-mannered and in love."

"Okay, unless you turned into a vampire, werewolf, or a hobgoblin since the last time I saw you, there's no way possible that you could for real smell that stuff. And, when I said I wanted to re-create _Heathers_, I was mostly joking and also cranky because I hadn't had lunch yet. I don't really want to stage fake suicides. Also, it's not like I haven't _tried_ with Jesse. He's seriously just…."

"What have you tried?" Stevie has to yell, because the band is breaking into a chorus of legit screams.

"I bought him weed and cigarettes and booze. I let him play wizard video games and showed him the Freedom Tunnel. I even tried to just grab him by the horn, if you know what I mean. But, he totally rejected me, which is pretty shitty for someone feeding you all the time. Like don't bite the hand that feeds, and don't…um, turn down hand jobs from…that hand either." Alex nods like that's something people say all the time.

Stevie laughs. "What? You mean you've been blipping this dude five course meals and shit?"

"No. I actually can't use my wand around him. You can't either. Or the wizard counsel will, dispose of him. I think the word Justin used was 'terminate.' Anyway, I've just been sharing my mom's food, and then occasionally making him pancakes and stuff."

"Holy shit," Stevie says, grabbing Alex's shoulder. "This is worse than I thought. You made him breakfast _before _he putout. Alex, I am going to do some emergency wing woman business like immediately. You need this. I don't want to walk in on you pulling a Harper and like knitting a sweater made of Jesse's hair and crying into a vat of frozen yogurt. Jesse!"

Before Alex can tell Stevie to shut the hell up, Jesse's already joined their little group. He's taking shallow sips of their tequila.

"'Sup?" he says.

Stevie's got that confident, tunnel vision, glint in her eye she always wears whenever shit's about to go down. "Alex and I were just talking about the band. What do you think of them?"

"They're alright, I guess." Jesse shrugs. "The dude playing lead guitar needs to tune the shit out that thing, and the drummer seems like he's always like one beat behind everyone else. But, they're not terrible."

Stevie nods, takes the bottle of Jose Cuervo from his hand, and knocks bag a shot's worth in her mouth. "They're no Twaught Hammer."

Jesse glances at the floor, doing this adorable little smile he tries to hide by licking his lower lip. He grabs the bottle back. "Nah, I wouldn't go that far or nothin.'"

"Speaking of bands, Alex was in one for a while. She played the drums _and _was lead singer, which is like super rare."

"Seriously?" Jesse looks at Alex, eyebrow raised. "I played the sticks and sang lead too."

Alex holds out her hand, and Jesse passes her the bottle. She takes a long drink. "Yeah, I know, fallacies and all that. My band only stayed together for one song, and then it was ruined by Max's magic show and our gargoyle guidance counselor."

Stevie shoots Alex a miffed look, probably because she isn't giving Stevie much to work with. But, Alex is honestly over the idea of tricking Jesse into liking her, because if he doesn't, then he doesn't. Alex doesn't want to elbow her way into those scrawny arms if she's not welcome to begin with.

"Way to be a downer," Stevie says. She motions towards the tequila. "You guys want to play a drinking game?"

Just as Alex is about to shake her head, because she's already starting to feel the room haze-up, Stevie looks past Alex and makes an acknowledging hand gesture. Alex turns to see the guy in orange flannel waving Stevie over closer to the stage where a new band is setting up.

"Uh, on second thought, two people games are better anyway. I'd suggest something with the word 'strip' in it, cause this chick," Stevie says, jerking her thumb in Alex's direction, "needs it. She's two knitting needles and an ounce of sexual frustration away from a hair sweater. See you guys, later."

Stevie flashes a peace sign, and dances her way across the room. Alex's cup is empty, so she sets in on the table behind her, trying to ignore the way Jesse's face is all puzzled.

"What the hell is a hair sweater?"

Alex snatches the bottle from him, and says she's going to get some air.

While she doesn't want to walk back to the alley by herself, there's a section of especially shattered windows in a far off corner that she knows brings in a nice car exhaust-scented breeze. She doesn't have a lighter for a new joint. So, she leans against the brick wall and takes a slug of tequila. She stays there for maybe twenty minutes, getting sleepier, listening to pop-punk bullshit that straight-up sounds like the same damn song over and over again.

"Hi, Alex."

She turns her head to see Hugh holding a platter of what looks like the tiny communion grape juice cups from Harper's church. A little less than maybe like a third are empty.

"Hey, Hugh," she says, smiling. It's hard not to smile when you're talking to a guy with huge, curly hair and doll-size glasses. "Whatcha got there?"

"Oh this?" he says, lifting the tray. "Jager shots. I've done seven already, and I don't feel a thing. You know what they say about giants. They've got _two _hollow legs, am I right?"

She's semi-aware that this is supposed to be a joke, and she laughs to not hurt his feelings. The kid's life is hard enough growing up as the only non-giant in a family of big people (the PC term). She doesn't need to bust his party bubble by telling him his shots are _so_ not shots.

Alex idly passes her eyes over the room when she spots Jesse talking to a girl who's standing out like a neon pink, mini-dress-wearing sore thumb. She's in like five inch heels and her hand is on his bicep.

Alex points to them with the neck of her bottle. "Who is she?"

"That's Gigi's older sister. She's visiting from Florida. I heard she's a swimsuit model, and she's twenty-four."

Alex takes one last swig before slamming the fifth of tequila on the floor. The music is still at a volume that no one besides Hugh notices her melodramatic outburst, and he only takes a few steps back. She doesn't care because she just found out Jesse's chatting with her archenemy's sister. This particular sister is throwing her arms around Jesse's neck, and Alex is kind of contemplating cutting a bitch when she hears sirens.

All guitars shut off as the partiers scramble in different directions like the time she doused an ant hill with Hawaiian punch. She's searching for the door she normally uses when the cops show up, but she's being pulled in another direction.

It's not until they're on the street by one of the back exits that she sees the person attached to her is Jesse. This is a good thing because those shots are simmering in a banana flavored soup in her gut, and walking is like easier and harder at the same time. The street lights flash by like she's in the passenger seat of a car. A few seconds later, the police wail is replaced by a passing fire truck, and he lets go of her elbow.

"You left your girlfriend."

Jesse gives her a side-eye. "You talking about that bitch hanging all over me?"

She smiles. "Ooh, what made her a bitch?"

"Forget it." He lights up a cigarette as they turn a corner by a closed jewelry store.

They pass a Laundromat when she trips on something on the sidewalk. And, _oh boy_, there's the nausea. She puts her hands on her knees, takes a few, shallow I-don't-want-to-puke breaths, and keeps walking like nothing happened.

She's listening to the way her flats smack against the pavement in a way that reminds her of a Britney Spears song, though she can't think of the name.

"She knew who I was," he says. He flicks his cigarette butt, and strikes up another. "Like, she was pretty plastered. And, I started talking to her because she was the only person there without like summer reading or like a curfew. She called me Jesse; knew all my shit."

"Not that I want to defend the relative of the one girl who has tormented me in school since kindergarten, but what did she do that was so bad?"

He slows down, letting a group of guys in polo shirts pass them. "She wanted to hookup."

"So?" Alex says. It's not like she'd want that to happen, but what the hell is his deal? His eyes are pretty red, though with her current vision, she can't really judge just how drunk he is. "Don't take this the wrong way, but under like all your homophobic crap, do you think there might be, you know, a part of you that's hanging out in a closet, if you know what I mean?"

He stops in front of a darkened department store. "How the hell am I not supposed to take that the wrong way? Hell no, I ain't gay."

"What about Walt?"

"Mr. White?" He scowls. "That's disgusting! What are you even saying?"

"I don't know. Why do you call him Mr. White? It sounds like he's your dom or something."

His scowl turns up a few notches. "What the hell is that?"

"You know, like a 'dominant,' like in BDSM. Like he's got you tied to one of the pipes in the lab, spanking you with that big fly swatter thing, and you're all like," she dramatically throws her head back, "Oh, Mr. White. Harder, Mr. White…."

Jesse covers her mouth with his hand. She licks the creases between his fingers. And, he jerks back.

He keeps walking, grumbling something about crazy bitches. They pass a couple making out in front of a bar and someone screaming into a cell phone. Another huge group of clubbers steps around them.

"Yo, I didn't want to like not fuck that girl because I'm a homo." He lights up his third cigarette. "I just, I don't know, thought, well, this bitch is hammered, so I might as well ask her what she really thinks of me. And you know what she said?"

Alex starts humming _Overprotected_ because _that_ was the Britney song she was thinking about, and she wishes she had her iPod. She shrugs.

"She said I was a whipped, crybaby, junkie, fuck-up loser. But, like she just wanted to fuck me because she thought I was hot."

Her knees have transitioned into that wobbly, infant giraffe phase, and she almost eats it like no other. But, Jesse puts his arm around her waist.

"Let's get some food," he says. "It'll make you feel better."

Alex doesn't like to be babied when she's drunk. Though his sleeve is still hiked up, and she can feel his bare forearm through the thin material of her tank top. So, she lets him guide her into a nearby 7-Eleven, and buy her Gatorade, nachos, and hot dogs with her money.

They sit on the sidewalk like total weirdos as she digs into the nachos. She wipes fake cheese from her chin and watches him chomp down on his hot dog. "We'd be some pretty attractive hobos."

Jesse laughs with his mouthful. A couple of guys with green Mohawks walk by as he sips from their Gatorade. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she says.

He swallows a bite of mostly bun and ketchup, eyeing the road. "So, I remember you like talked about me shooting Gale or some shit, and I told you I didn't. Well, this girl talked about it too, like asked me how it felt to be a scumbag murderer. I think she was like getting off fucking insulting me or whatever. And, I didn't know what to say, like not even enough to call her a bitch or anything, just let her keep talking. I figured if you both knew about this, then it's not made up, and I just haven't done it yet. It is 2010 here, and like my head fucking hurts even thinking about it. But, I guess, what I'm asking, is, why do you even like me? You watched me kill someone, sling glass, and do a bunch of other shit. I don't get it."

The neon aura blasting from the overhead 7-Eleven sign is making her eyes ache, so she has to cover them to seal some of her thoughts into her skull. She's thinking about a way to word her answer when she feels him rub the space between her shoulder blades. Before he can say anything, she just lets it all go.

"Jesse, I don't know what that chick's problem was. You're not a scumbag murderer. The only reason you even do what you do to Gale is to save Walt's stupid ass. You always try to protect the people you care about. And, you never even brag about it or anything. Like you may not act like it sometimes, but you're a pretty smart guy in ways that work for you. You're hilarious. Even with some of like your actions or whatever, you're still a good guy. You may not believe it or whatever, but you are. Call me batshit crazy, but I like you anyway. And, I'm not even gonna lie, it doesn't like hurt or anything that you're like super-hot."

Wiping her most-likely smudged mascara, she feels him staring. And she's thinking maybe it wasn't cool to drunkenly pull her hear out of her chest, displaying it bloody and still pumping in her hand like she's about to start chanting "Kali Ma, Kali Ma!" She's watched _Temple of Doom_ way too many times with Justin.

Before she can change the subject, Jesse's hand is callused and toasty against her cheek. He's looking at her with eyes so bright she swears she must be covered in something cute, like kittens and she just doesn't know it. "On a scale of one to Rick Ross, how drunk are you?"

It's a little scary how much Alex understands that. "Probably a 6 or like a low 7."

"You gonna remember this?" When she nods, he barely leans in.

It's still close enough to feel the prickled stubble on his chin. And, it's almost like her heart organ's throbbing in her throat, like it's just as confused as she is right about now.

"You promise not to hurl?"

After her second nod, Jesse places his free hand on the other side of her face. He kisses her.

It's slow and surreal. His bottom lip slips between hers, before she tilts her head, widening their mouths and sliding her tongue against his. He lets her lead for a while, hands now at the base of her scalp with hers unzipping his jacket enough to cautiously travel underneath. Her neck starts to hurt from this position, so she manages to sit up and straddle his lap without even breaking contact. He does this kind of surprised humming sound against her mouth. And, the idea of them outside like this in the semi-dark makes her feel like she's a lion, like she just totally mounted Jesse and everything. It spreads a heat through her veins that feels like the perfect mix of liquor and sleep. She starts to notice her face is unbelievably heavy, and even though she wants to stab herself for it, _she's_ the one who pulls away.

Alex kisses the corner of his mouth before resting against his shoulder, looping both arms around his neck, and she may or may not look like an exhausted child. "So tired."

Jesse laughs as he helps her up, arm around her shoulder as she mumbles out some directions. She so hopes she doesn't fall asleep.


End file.
